Vanished
by Red Hardy
Summary: While waiting to catch a flight home from Chicago, Joe disappears from O’Hare Airport. The only clues to his whereabouts are a message he left on Frank’s cell phone and an envelope hidden in the airport restroom.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: I wrote most of this story back when you were still allowed to meet arriving passengers at the gate and I'm too lazy to rewrite the first chapter, so let's just pretend, okay? ;-)

Yup, those pesky multiple POV's are still here.

This was written back in 2001, for a good friend, with **very****careful consideration** given to her specific likes and dislikes in a story! It is rated T for violence in the first half of the story and is probably a little more graphic than I normally get, but that's what my friend liked. And yes, it's another Joe kidnap story, again in accordance with my friend's favorite type of story. So if that doesn't float your boat, don't bother telling me how boring it is, how you've seen it all before, how unoriginal it is, blah, blah, blah because I really don't care. If you don't like it, don't read it. Also, I've disabled the anonymous comments for this story. I can't stand the cowards and bullies (and that IS what they are) who like to hide behind that button to flame or criticize what doesn't cater to their own personal likes and dislikes or that they don't 'approve' of. Have the guts to stand behind your opinions or don't say anything at all. Okay? Okay. ;-)

Disclaimer: Still don't own them. Will put them back in reasonably good shape when I'm done.

**Vanished**

**Chapter 1**

Vanessa Bender watched anxiously as the last few passengers disembarked from the plane. The 23-year-old with ash blonde hair and blue-grey eyes had come to the airport to pick up her fiancé, Joe Hardy. She was absolutely sure she hadn't missed him in the early crush of people who had initially gotten off the plane. At five-feet-eleven-inches tall, she could easily see over the heads of the people who had been crowded into the lounge area, waiting for friends and loved ones.

As she watched the pilots and flight attendants finally make their way off the aircraft, her anxiety turned to concern and she approached the counter.

"Excuse me, I'm sorry to bother you," Vanessa interrupted the gate agent.

The dark haired woman with matching brown eyes smiled at Vanessa. "Yes, how can I help you?"

"My fiancé was supposed to be on this flight, but he never got off the plane. I was here before the plane arrived so I know I didn't miss him," she said, growing increasingly worried.

"Maybe he just got stuck in traffic on his way to the airport and missed the flight," the agent tried to reassure Vanessa. "Let me see if he got rolled over to the next flight. What's his name?"

"Joe Hardy. But he called me from the airport. He had already checked in and had a boarding pass for this flight," Vanessa replied, worry now clouding her pretty face.

"Hmmm. Let's see." The agent's fingers worked the keyboard as she kept a close eye on the monitor. Frowning, she picked up the phone and dialed a number. After a few moments she began to speak.

"Hi, Melissa. This is Sherri, in Bayport. I'm trying to locate a passenger who seems to have gone AWOL," she said, winking at Vanessa, who managed a tight smile in return.

"Joe Hardy," Sherri continued. "Flight 1011. It shows he checked in and got a boarding pass but for some reason he never boarded the plane. Sure, I'll hold."

Sherri looked at Vanessa. "She didn't work that flight but she's going to find someone who did." Noting the look of worry on Vanessa's face, Sherri reached out and patted her hand comfortingly.

Tensing slightly, Vanessa resisted the urge to pull her hand away. She had always been outgoing and affectionate but ever since the rape, she hated being touched by anyone other than Joe and even then it was sometimes "iffy".

"Don't worry," Sherri continued. "O'Hare is one of the largest airports in the world. He probably just lost track of time in the bookstore or the food court and missed the flight. Believe it or not, that happens every day," she said reassuringly. "What? Really?" Sherri resumed her conversation with the person on the other end of the line. "How odd. Okay, thanks for checking." Sherri hung up the phone and looked at Vanessa again, this time with sympathy.

"He did check in for the flight and was issued a boarding pass but never got on. He was paged several times and they even held the flight, waiting for him. Some of the gate agents remembered seeing him talking on a cell phone in the lounge area."

Vanessa's eyes started to water.

"He was talking to you?" Sherri asked quietly.

Vanessa simply nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

"Just before they began boarding, one of the flight attendants saw him leave the lounge area. She said he was heading towards the rest room. She got busy when they started boarding and never saw him again after that." Sherri paused, watching the obviously distraught young woman in front of her and wondered if she should tell her the rest of what her colleague in Chicago had conveyed.

"Did they say anything else?" Vanessa asked in a small voice.

"Well, there are only two more flights coming in tonight from Chicago and he hasn't checked in for either one. They even paged him again while I was holding just now, but he never answered the page." Sherri felt bad for Vanessa, seeing she was on the verge of tears. "I'm sorry. I wish I could be more helpful. Is there someone I can call for you?"

Vanessa shook her head no. "I'll call his brother. Joe may have called him."

"Okay. Please let me know if I can do anything else for you."

"Thanks for checking," Vanessa replied and turned away from the counter.

She made her way to an empty section of the lounge area and pulled out her cell phone. It just wasn't like Joe not to check in with her if he had a change of plans. They had just spoken a few hours ago. They made plans to go to Prito's Italian Restaurant for dinner after she picked him up.

Joe had flown to Chicago that morning with some papers that needed a client's signature immediately. He was to get the papers signed and notarized and return home early that evening. Vanessa remembered how tightly he had held her before boarding the plane that morning, as if they were going to be apart for months instead of just a few hours. He may have only been gone since that morning, but Vanessa now realized how terribly she missed him.

She dialed Joe's cell phone, hoping he did indeed just get distracted by something and simply missed the flight, although she knew deep inside he would have called to tell her. When she got his voice mail, she knew without a doubt something was very wrong. With shaking hands, Vanessa dialed Frank Hardy's number.

_'Please be there, Frank,'_ she thought as a few tears finally escaped and slid down her cheeks.

"Hello?"

"Frank?"

"Hey, Van. Did Joe get home safe and sound?" he asked cheerfully.

"No," she choked out. "He never got on the plane. Frank, he's disappeared."


	2. Chapter 2

Many thanks for the reviews! Thank you to all who are reading. :-)

**Vanished**

**Chapter 2**

Joe Hardy smiled as he put his cell phone away. Only a few more hours and he would be back home with Vanessa. They had both made progress in dealing with the horrible events of several months ago, but they still missed each other desperately when they were apart for any length of time. He knew Vanessa was getting stronger every day, but she still counted on his being there every night before she could relax and feel truly safe. He couldn't wait to hold her in his arms and tell her how much he loved her.

Checking his watch, Joe found he had just enough time for a trip to the rest room before his flight would start boarding. He entered the rest room and walked to the stall at the very end. Seconds after locking the door he heard someone enter the stall next to him. Suddenly an envelope came flying over the partition accompanied by a harsh whisper from the man in the next stall.

"Here's the down payment along with your instructions. You'll get the rest of the money when the job is completed."

Before Joe could even comprehend what was happening, he heard the man unlock the door and leave the stall. Receding footsteps told Joe the man had left the restroom completely.

Curious, Joe opened the envelope and found several thousand dollars in cash, along with a photo of someone who looked slightly familiar to him, as if he had seen the face on television before. Pulling out the accompanying sheet of paper, he began to read it and could almost feel the color draining from his face.

He looked at the picture again and then back at the sheet of paper. Everything suddenly clicked. The man was Jacob Hurley, a senior member of the United States Senate. He was well respected among both political parties and had a reputation as a politician who could not be bought. Most importantly he was a close advisor to the President of the United States. According to the instructions, the money was a down payment for a hit on Senator Hurley – whoever had thrown the envelope to Joe, thought he was talking to a hired assassin!

Looking at his watch once again, he realized his plane was already boarding. Checking the sheet of paper once more, he saw the hit wasn't to take place for a few more days. He stuck the envelope under his shirt and quickly left the restroom, not wanting to miss his flight. He could show this to Frank and his dad when he got home and, together, the three of them could decide what to do.

As Joe approached the exit of the restroom, he saw two men standing directly across the corridor from the exit and took a few steps back hiding in the shadows. One of the men was a few inches shorter than Joe with short, red, curly hair and piercing blue eyes. His skin was pale and he had a smattering of freckles across his nose. His eyes were constantly scanning the crowd of people rushing by.

The other man was at least six feet, five inches tall and Joe could see bulging muscles straining under the jacket he wore. His head was shaved and he had a scar just above his right eye. His eyes were glued to the exit of the restroom and Joe wondered if the man had seen him. Joe's gut instinct told him one of these men was the one who had thrown the envelope to him. Even if the large man with the shaved head hadn't spotted him yet, he knew there was no way to avoid being seen once he stepped out into the corridor. He had been the only one in the restroom when the envelope had come flying at him and no one else had come in since. If he left, he knew the two men would confront him and they would almost surely find the envelope on him.

Returning to the restroom, he looked around frantically for somewhere he could hide the envelope that would be safe. An idea struck him and he entered the handicapped stall locking the door behind him. Laughing softly, he found he was now thankful for the time his father had sent him undercover as part of an overnight cleaning crew that was suspected of stealing from the various companies who had hired them. Something he had learned as his time spent as a janitor was finally going to come in handy.

He pulled out the metal trash container and removed the half full trash bag inside. Reaching down to the bottom of the container he smiled when his hand came in contact with a pile of neatly folded, unused trash bags that were used as replacements when the trashcans were emptied periodically throughout the day. Pulling them out, he placed them on the floor. Opening one of the bags, he placed the envelope inside it, and then put that bag in the bottom of the trash container. He put the stack of clean trash bags on top of it, and put the half full trash bag on top of those. Finally he pushed the trash container back into place, satisfied no one would find the envelope, not even the cleaning staff.

Joe turned to leave and hesitated, a decidedly uneasy feeling coming over him. Pulling out his cell phone, he dialed his brother. Disappointed when Frank didn't answer, he left a whispered message quickly telling his brother what had happened, where the envelope was located and giving him a description of the two men he had seen waiting across the corridor out side the restroom.

"I know I'm just being paranoid, but in case I don't make it home…well, at least you'll have some idea of where to start looking for me," Joe finished the message only half-jokingly. He hoped he really was just being paranoid, but his gut instinct told him otherwise and it was rarely wrong.

Leaving the stall, Joe walked to the exit and took a deep breath before walking out into the corridor. Stepping forward he was immediately confronted by the two men he had seen a few moments earlier.

"Excuse me," Joe said politely, trying to squeeze past them.

The large, bald man stepped aside to let him pass. Joe realized a second too late that he had walked right into their trap. The man with the curly red hair pulled out a gun and aimed it at Joe's chest while keeping it obscured from view. The first man, who had let Joe pass, now wrapped a large forearm around Joe's throat cutting off his air supply as he pulled Joe back a few steps into the entranceway of the restroom out of sight of the other travelers.

"I think you have something that belongs to me," he said politely. "And I'd like it back, please."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Joe choked out, tugging on the man's arm, trying to get some breathing room.

The man tightened his grip on Joe, causing Joe to gasp for air. The red headed man put the gun in his pocket and quickly frisked Joe looking for the envelope.

"Not here," he said simply.

The first man spun Joe around while the second pressed his gun into Joe's back forcing him further back into the restroom.

"Where is the envelope?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Joe repeated, now rubbing his sore throat.

Hearing someone approach the restroom the gunman said, "Let's take him with us. We can beat it out of him."

Joe started to protest but kept quiet when the gun was pressed even further into his back. His eyes darted around, looking for any means of escape when suddenly he saw a huge fist complete with brass knuckles coming straight at him. Joe felt an explosion of pain and slumped forward into the big man's arms, unconscious.


	3. Chapter 3

Alicia: You said it, darlin'! All those anonymous flamers who hate Joe kidnap stories so much (or as Phoenix put it, "JIM" stories! :P) need to stop whining and write their own story!! As for you - I've got the electric razor in my hand but I haven't turned it on… _yet_! ;-)

Polaris: I was just howling at your review!! Thank you for making me literally laugh out loud!! :D

Josie: Died laughing at your comment about why they never went to the bathroom in the books!! :D And the vast majority of airport bathrooms are in the interior of the buildings so they don't have restrooms. At least the ones at O'Hare don't – it's my airport of choice for layovers so I'm intimately familiar with it! ;-) And the trick Joe learned as a janitor – yeah, I learned that one when I managed fitness centers. The janitorial staff always left clean, folded bags in the bottom of the trash containers just in case the trash bags needed to be changed before they came in at night. ;-) See all the mundane, real life stuff you can use for stories?? LOL!

MissMe113: They need the envelope back (since it has all that cash and instructions for a hit in it) and they don't know he stuffed it in the bottom of the trash can. ;-)

Miss Fenway: Who ME? Would I torture Joe?? Not I… is my nose growing yet? ;-)

TraSan: LOL! Frying pan to fire in record time – that's Joe! :-)

No1butjoe: I hope this is soon enough! :-)

Pally: LOL! I think you may be right!

**Vanished **

**Chapter 3**

"What?" Frank asked, stunned by Vanessa's news.

"Joe never got on the plane," she repeated. "He called me from the airport after he had gotten his boarding pass so I know he was there. I asked the gate agent to check on him. She confirmed that he _did_ check in and get a boarding pass. She called Chicago and one of the agents there remembered seeing him. She said right before they started boarding, she saw him walking towards the restroom but she doesn't remember seeing him after that," Vanessa finished, her voice shaky.

"Maybe he went to get something to eat and lost track of time. O'Hare is a pretty big airport, Van. I've almost missed flights out of there myself a few times." Frank wasn't sure if he was trying to reassure himself or Vanessa.

"There are only two more flights to Bayport tonight. He didn't check in for either one. They even paged him, Frank - twice. He didn't answer either of them."

Frank could hear the tears in Vanessa's voice and his heart broke realizing how terrified she must be.

"Listen, just sit tight, Van. I'll call Dad and we'll be there in half an hour, okay?"

"Okay. Frank?"

"Yes?"

"Wherever he is, he's alright…isn't he?" Vanessa was desperate for reassurance that Joe was indeed safe.

"I'm sure he is, Van," Frank lied, knowing something had to have happened to his brother. Joe would never leave Vanessa hanging like that, especially not after everything they had both been through recently. "We'll be there soon."

Frank hung up and started to dial his father, then stopped. He went to his briefcase and pulled out his cell phone. He and his father had been in an important meeting all afternoon and he had switched the ringer off, putting it on vibrate, and forgotten to switch it back when the meeting ended.

Looking at the display, Frank saw there was one voice mail message. He noticed his hand shaking slightly as he punched in the code to retrieve the message. Listening to his brother's voice his heart caught in his throat. Joe was speaking quickly and very quietly, but Frank could still make out the apprehension in his voice as he described what had happened.

Saving the message, Frank left a hastily scribbled note for his wife, Callie, and grabbed his jacket. He was already dialing his father as he ran to his car and pulled out of the driveway.

"Fenton Hardy," his father answered.

"Dad, Joe is in trouble," Frank blurted out.

"What? How? His flight just got in. Vanessa is picking him up at the airport now."

"Vanessa just called me from the airport. He never got on the flight. And he called me earlier, Dad, but I had the ringer on my cell phone turned off so I never answered." His voice started to quiver, thinking that if only he had answered the phone his brother might be safe now. He took a deep breath to calm himself.

"I'll explain everything when I get there but you have to trust me on this. Book us on a flight to Chicago tonight. If there aren't any more flights out tonight rent a plane and I'll fly us there. We have to get to Chicago as soon as possible. I think Joe is really in trouble, Dad."

Trusting his son knew what he was talking about Fenton complied immediately. "I'll be ready to go when you get here." He hung up the phone without saying goodbye and immediately began making arrangements to get them to Chicago that evening.

By the time Frank arrived, Fenton had an overnight bag by the front door and was explaining to his wife why he and Frank were suddenly leaving town.

Frank hugged his mother as his father explained that the few remaining flights to Chicago that night were overbooked. Rather than taking a chance on getting bumped, he had rented a small private plane that Frank could pilot himself. Frank found he was actually relieved at the news that he would have to fly. Sitting on a commercial airliner for two hours with nothing to do but worry about his brother would surely drive him crazy.

Frank gave his cell phone to Fenton so he could listen to Joe's message. As he watched the expression on his father's face change listening to Joe's hushed voice, Frank turned his attention to Laura. "Mom, can you come to the airport with us? Vanessa is waiting for us there. She doesn't know about the message yet. It's probably not a good idea for her to drive once we tell her what's going on. And she might want to stay here with you tonight, in Joe's room," he concluded knowing Vanessa was still uncomfortable being alone, especially at night.

"Of course," she replied. "I think I'd like her here with me…until Joe comes home."

The three Hardys climbed into Frank's car, all lost in thoughts of Joe and what might have happened to him. They soon arrived at the airport and hurried to the gate where Joe's flight had come in. Sitting all alone in the lounge area and looking very lost was Vanessa. When she saw Frank, she jumped up and ran to him, wrapping her arms around his neck. As Frank hugged her, he could feel her trembling. He wished he could easily reassure her that Joe was fine and would be home soon, but he knew she needed and wanted the truth. As anxious as he was to get started on the trip to Chicago, he stood and held Vanessa until she pulled away. Taking her hand he led her to a group of empty seats where they all sat down.

Vanessa looked at Frank and then his parents, not liking what she saw in their eyes. She looked back at Frank and asked a question she really didn't want him to answer.

"He's not all right…is he?" she said softly, referring to their earlier conversation.

"No, Van, I don't think he is." Frank squeezed her hand and briefly explained about Joe's message, leaving out some details, trying not to alarm her anymore than she already was. "Dad and I are flying out there now."

"I'm coming with you," she said, resolutely.

"I don't think that's such a good idea."

"I want to be there when you find him!" she cried out. "I _need_ to be there."

"Frank is right, honey," Fenton interrupted. "We honestly don't know what's going on. I can't, in good conscience, bring you into a situation like that. If I did and God forbid anything happened to you, Joe would never forgive me. I'd never forgive myself."

Laura reached out and took Vanessa's free hand. "Besides, I need you to stay with me - until I know Joe is home safe and sound." The two women looked at each other, tears in their eyes. "It really is best if you stay here with me, sweetie. You know that's what Joe would want."

Vanessa just nodded, trying to swallow the lump in her throat.

"We better get going." Fenton stood and hugged his wife and then Vanessa. Pulling back he looked into her eyes. "Don't worry. We'll find him and bring him home."

Frank hugged his mother first and then Vanessa. She held him tightly, not really wanting to let go. "When you find him," she whispered to Frank, "tell him I love him."

"I will. First thing. I promise." He hugged her tightly. "Take care of Mom while we're gone, okay?"

She pulled back and gave Frank a shaky smile. "I will."

Vanessa felt an arm around her shoulder and let Laura lead her out of the airport. When they got to her jeep, she handed the keys to Laura. Vanessa climbed into the passenger seat and broke down in tears.

"Don't worry, sweetie. He'll be fine." Laura hugged her tightly wishing she could believe her own words. Deep inside, she began to prepare herself for the worst, at the same time praying she would get one more chance to tell her youngest son how much she loved him.


	4. Chapter 4

Many thanks to all who reviewed. You make me smile. :-)

**Vanished**

**Chapter 4**

Slowly Joe became aware of voices and a pulling sensation on his wrists. He shivered and tried to wrap his arms around himself for warmth, wondering why he was so cold. Unable to move his arms, he opened his eyes and turned his head to the right. A small knot formed in the pit of his stomach when he saw why he couldn't move - his right wrist was chained to a split rail fence. He quickly looked to his left and the world began to spin. He closed his eyes and waited a moment for the dizziness to pass, then opened them and slowly looked to his left. Seeing his left wrist also chained to the fence he shivered again, this time not just from the cold.

Looking down he saw he was wearing only his jeans. His jacket, shirt, shoes and socks had been removed. There was another chain around his ankles, securing him to the fence post. Looking up, he saw the night sky was ablaze with stars. The knot in his stomach got a little tighter. In order for that many stars to be visible to the naked eye, he had to be out in the middle of nowhere.

Several yards in front of him he saw two men, their backs to him, sitting in front of a campfire talking quietly, obviously unaware he had regained consciousness. Closing his eyes once again, he leaned his head back against the fence post trying to remember exactly how he gotten himself into this situation.

He remembered being at the airport in Chicago, waiting to board a flight back to Bayport. He had called Vanessa on his cell phone, to confirm his arrival time and then headed to the rest room just before they started boarding his flight. The restroom… an envelope had come flying at him from the next stall. He inhaled sharply, suddenly remembering everything. Unfortunately, this alerted the two men that he was now conscious as they turned around to look at him.

"Well, well, you decided to rejoin the land of the living." He recognized the red headed man who had held a gun to his chest in the men's room.

"Who are…" Joe began and immediately stopped speaking. Groaning in pain, he remembered the fist coming at him with the brass knuckles and wondered if his jaw was broken.

"Hurt to talk, does it? I'm so sorry about that," the man said. He stepped forward and slapped Joe hard across the face. Joe groaned once more, sagging against the chains that held him to the fence. "Now, all you have to do is tell us what you did with the envelope and you'll be free to go."

"Don't know…what envelope…" Joe said with great effort and was silenced with a kick to the stomach. Gasping, he doubled over as much as the chains holding him to the fence would allow.

The man grabbed him by the hair, yanking him up.

"Wrong answer. Now, the envelope and its contents belong to my associate and I. You, unfortunately, were the only other person in the restroom and were 'given' the envelope by mistake. All we want is the envelope returned to us, no questions asked, and you can be on the next flight back to…" he pulled Joe's airline ticket out of his pocket and looked it over. "…Bayport."

Joe stared at the man, who still had a hold of his hair, but said nothing. He knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that once these men had the information they wanted, he would be dead within minutes; his silence was the only thing that would keep him alive.

"We can't go back to our…supervisors…without that envelope. Right now, only you know where it is. We can do this the easy way or the hard way. Your choice," he finished, looking Joe in the eyes. When Joe remained silent, the man sighed heavily. "Just remember, this was your choice."

Releasing Joe's hair he stepped back and turned to his companion saying, "He's all yours."

Joe looked at the larger man and shivered inwardly at the muscles he could see bulging under the man's shirt. This was the man who had initially let Joe pass when he tried to leave the restroom. He swallowed hard remembering the man's forearm wrapped around his neck, cutting off his air supply. Warily, Joe watched as the man stood eyeing him, as if sizing him up for a fight. Nodding to himself, the big man reached down into the campfire and pulled out a piece of wood, flames dancing off the end of it.

He casually walked up to Joe, stopping directly in front of him. "Where is it?" he asked simply, no inflection in his voice what so ever.

Clamping his mouth shut, Joe said nothing. Wordlessly, the big man reached out with the burning piece of wood. Joe knew he could not escape yet he instinctively tried to pull away as the flame got close to his skin. Feeling the heat on his arm, Joe yanked on the chain holding him to the fence and cried out in pain when the flame burned his skin. It wasn't until the smell of burning flesh started to make him nauseous that the flaming piece of wood was finally pulled away.

"Where?" the man asked again in the same monotone.

Once again Joe remained silent and once again the burning flame resulted in the night air echoing with his cries of pain. Several minutes later, when Joe's arm was raw and blistering and his throat was sore from the screams he could not contain, the man stepped away and threw the piece of wood back on to the fire. He once again stood, studying Joe.

Watching the man watching him, Joe began to shiver. The temperature had dropped dramatically when the sun went down but that was not the sole reason he had begun to tremble. He recognized the look in the man's eyes. It was apparent the man was good at extracting information from people who were unwilling to talk and he obviously enjoyed his work immensely. It also became clear to Joe why they were out in the middle of nowhere; his captors could torture him freely without worrying that his screaming would draw unwanted attention.

Joe shivered once again, realizing this man could easily beat him to death trying to get information out of him that he had no intention of revealing. Joe leaned his head back against the fence, trying to block out the throbbing pain in his arm. He had no idea where he was or how long he'd been there.

A sudden blinding flash of light caused Joe to blink rapidly. He heard a whirring sound and a loud, crisp "snap." The noises sounded vaguely familiar and Joe tried to place them as his eyes readjusted to the darkness. A moment later something was thrust in front of his face, illuminated by a flashlight.

Joe's stomach tightened as he gazed at a picture of himself taken just moments earlier, pain evident on his face. The muscular man produced two more photos of Joe, crying out as the flames from the burning wood danced over his arm. He hadn't even realized they had been taken.

"You're about to become part of my resume. I like to capture all my work on film," the man smiled proudly. "And it's always a nice memento for the family."

Joe prayed Frank had gotten his message by now and found the envelope. He hoped his brother was able to find some kind of clue as to where he'd been taken. Joe was becoming uneasy at what was in store for him at the hands of someone who so obviously enjoyed inflicting pain on others. As Joe contemplated what kind of horrors the night held in store for him, his brother's voice echoed in his head.

_"I'll always be there for you, Joe. Always."_

Clinging to those words, Joe gazed up at the stars that lit up the dark night sky. All he had to do was remain silent until Frank arrived with help. It had seemed so simple at first. Joe winced as the raw pain in his arm grew with each passing second and realized that this was going to be much more difficult than he had originally anticipated.

_'Come on, bro. Where are you?'_


	5. Chapter 5

Thank you to everyone who is reading. Great big hugs to HelenLouise, TraSan, Polaris, Alicia, josie, No1butjoe, Miss Fenway, MissMe113, Calathiel, pally, Midst Ride, dazzling vampire and violetsunshine for your kind reviews. :-)

**Vanished**

**Chapter 5**

Fenton watched with admiration, pride and a little bit of envy as Frank expertly piloted the small plane to a cruising altitude. Fenton had never even thought about learning how to fly. That's what people like Jack Wayne were for! Frank, however, was eager to learn and took to it like a duck to water. Joe had also taken lessons but apparently become frustrated with the whole thing at some point and never got his pilot's license. Joe had often joked that one pilot in the family was enough and he'd much rather spend his time on other pursuits. Fenton suspected though, that if it came right down to it, in an emergency Joe would certainly be able to fly, and land, a plane.

'_Joe... Where are you?' _Fenton thought gazing out the window into the black night sky.

Wondering what could have happened to his younger son, Fenton was overcome with guilt. This was supposed to have been a simple courier assignment. Fly to Chicago, get the papers signed and notarized, fly home. Easy. Simple. No danger at all. And yet Joe had vanished into thin air.

"Dad?" Frank's voice cut through Fenton's worried thoughts.

"Yes?"

"Are you all right? You're awfully quiet."

"Just…thinking."

"About Joe?"

Fenton sighed in frustration. "I purposely asked him to do this _because_ it wasn't dangerous! Joe has therapy twice a week and Vanessa still isn't comfortable being alone at night. I've been trying to give him assignments that aren't too dangerous and where he doesn't have to be away from home overnight." He laid his head back against the seat. "Why didn't I just take the damn papers myself?"

Frank could hear the frustration – and guilt – in his father's voice. And he understood it completely. Frank had been asking himself almost the same thing. Why didn't he volunteer to go to Chicago and let Joe stay home and attend the meeting with their father? Because Joe hated meetings, that's why. And this was so easy no one thought twice about it. Then again, Joe always did manage to find trouble in the most innocent and unlikely places.

"We'll find him, Dad," Frank tried to reassure his father. "Were you able to get a hold of Mr. DiSantos?" he asked, referring to the head of security at O'Hare.

Fenton Hardy and George DiSantos had been rookies together in the New York Police Department. They had stayed in touch when both left the force to pursue careers in the private sector.

"Yes. He's going to review the security tapes from the area where Joe was last seen. We can look at them as soon as we get there."

"Did you tell him about the file Joe left in the trash can?"

"No. He's a good friend but if I told him he'd go straight to the Secret Service with it and we'd never see it. When we get there I'll make copies of it and then turn it over to them myself. All they'll care about is keeping Senator Hurley alive. Joe doesn't mean a thing to them. He'd be considered a necessary casualty."

Frank nodded, understanding exactly what his father meant. It was why he never seriously considered the offer he'd gotten from The Network to work exclusively for them. He knew he would never be able to sacrifice even one innocent person for the 'greater good'. And he wasn't about to let the government sacrifice his brother for anybody.

The remainder of the trip was made in silence, with Frank and Fenton both wondering what could have happened to Joe, while trying to keep their worst fears at bay. Upon landing at O'Hare, Frank was directed to the area reserved for private aircraft. A short time later he and Fenton were quickly making their way through the main terminal.

"His flight left from Gate K-12." Frank scanned the overhead signs as they walked. "There." He pointed to his right.

Stopping in front of the gate, Fenton slowly and methodically scrutinized the now nearly empty corridor. His eyes narrowed slightly when he found what he was looking for. Without a word, he strode down the walkway and turned into the first doorway on his left with Frank only a few steps behind. Entering the handicapped stall in the empty restroom, Fenton pulled out the trashcan, removing the half-full bag and all the extras beneath it. Opening the very last bag he glanced inside then looked at Frank.

"Got it."

Quickly replacing the bags and the trash can, Frank and Fenton left the restroom and made their way to the Security Office. They were immediately ushered into George DiSantos' private office.

"Fenton, it's good to see you again. Wish it were under different circumstances." The tall, graying chief of security shook his hand before greeting Frank in a similar manner.

"You too, George. And thanks for your help," Fenton replied.

"I found a tape that you should take a look at. I think it's Joe but I'm not positive. I couldn't get a good look at his face," DiSantos said cautiously.

"Oh?" Fenton arched an eyebrow.

"He's with two other men and he appears to be unconscious," he explained uneasily.

"Did you recognize the men he was with?"

"I'm afraid so. Keith Rashman and Dennis Malick. They're with Chicago's most powerful organized crime syndicate."

'_Joe, what have you gotten yourself into this time?'_ Frank thought, no longer feeling silly about fearing for his brother's safety.

"One of our security guards stopped them on the way out. Rashman made up some story about the three of them seeing off a new client their company had just signed. Said they waited with the client in the bar, celebrating the new partnership, until his flight was called. He claimed Joe had too much to drink and passed out."

Fenton watched his friend carefully as he related what the security guard had reported growing uneasy at what appeared to be something akin to fear in the man's eyes.

"Keith Rashman?" Fenton repeated the name. "Is he related to Craig Rashman?"

George DiSantos nodded and looked down at his desk for a moment, gathering his thoughts. When he had recognized Keith Rashman on the videotape, his blood had turned to ice. He'd heard stories about what this man could do and wouldn't wish that kind of horror on his worst enemy.

"His younger brother," he confirmed softly. "Keith Rashman is a specialist, Fenton, just like his brother was. And Craig taught him everything he knows. Rumor has it he's even worse than Craig was. Really enjoys his work. He's the biggest reason no one has challenged the authority of this syndicate. I'm so sorry." He looked at his friend with sympathy.

"What exactly does he specialize in?" Frank asked, with growing anxiety.

George DiSantos looked at him and then quickly looked away, remaining silent.

Fenton closed his eyes tightly, not even hearing Frank's question. His fear for Joe had just increased a hundred-fold. "Oh, God….Joe…" he whispered.

"Dad? What's wrong?" Frank asked, slightly panicked at his father's reaction, worry for his brother now starting to take over his emotions. "What does he specialize in? Dad, _answer me_!" Frank's voice rose a few notches.

"Torture," Fenton replied, his eyes taking on a faraway look as if he were remembering something he'd rather not.

Frank suddenly realized his palms had become sweaty, his throat was dry and his heart was beating noticeably faster.

"His brother, Craig, was the top enforcer for one of New York's biggest crime families," Fenton continued. "His specialty was getting information out of people who refused to talk. He tortured them until they broke and told him whatever it was he wanted to know. He was considered the best at what he did. He could break anybody." Fenton looked at Frank, anguished. _'And his brother is even worse? God help you, Joe.'_

"Where is he now?"

"New York state prison. Serving three consecutive life sentences for murder."

"And…" Frank prompted him, sensing there was something more.

"And I'm the one who put him there." Fenton suddenly looked haunted. "If Keith really is more sadistic than his brother was…and he figures out Joe is my son…" he stopped, unable to stomach the thought of what Joe might have to endure because of him.


	6. Chapter 6

Thank you so much to all those who have reviewed. Your words always bring a smile to my face. :-)

Today, September 11th, I have to ask everyone to take a moment and remember all those who lost their lives on 9/11/01 and their families. I personally know someone who was killed on that day and a co-worker, who was home on maternity leave with her first child, lost her husband. Please keep those who are grieving the loss of a loved one in your thoughts today. Thank you.

**Vanished**

**Chapter 6**

Joe stood shivering in the cold night air, trying to keep his teeth from chattering and attempting to ignore the pain radiating from the burns on his arm. Studying the stars in the clear night sky, Joe tried to determine what time it might be and finally gave up, although the intermittent grumbles from his stomach let him know it was long past dinnertime. Having caught bits and pieces of the conversation between the two men seated in front of the fire, Joe learned the large, muscular, bald man was named Rashman, his red-headed partner was Malick and they apparently worked for some organized crime family.

The two men finished the last of their dinner, having offered Joe none, and slowly got to their feet. Turning they walked back towards Joe, stopping just a few feet in front of him.

"Are you ready to tell us what you did with the envelope?" Malick asked him.

Joe's answer was a silent glare.

Rashman took a few steps forward until he was standing less than twelve inches from Joe. "Are you absolutely sure you don't want to answer my friend?" he asked, his eyes locked onto Joe's. Rashman waited a beat for Joe's response before his fist lashed out, connecting solidly with Joe's stomach.

Caught off guard, Joe gasped painfully, falling forward until the chains brought him to an abrupt halt. Immediately, Rashman's right hand connected with Joe's chin, snapping his head back into the post.

Spots danced before Joe's eyes and his vision faded slightly, as he forced himself not to lose consciousness. Focusing on the scar above Rashman's eye, he shook his head to clear it and saw the big man watching him intently, his gaze never wavering. Joe looked back at him, their eyes locked, each waiting for the other to blink. As Rashman continued staring at Joe closely, Joe became extremely uncomfortable.

"Let me see that airline ticket." Rashman held his hand out, palm up, his eyes never leaving Joe's.

Malick obediently produced Joe's ticket, placing it in Rashman's hand. He looked down at it, noting the name and destination. Returning his gaze to Joe, he held out his hand once more.

"Wallet."

Again, Malick dutifully produced Joe's wallet, placing it in Rashman's open palm. This time Rashman's examination was more thorough. Opening the wallet, he looked at Joe's drivers license through the little plastic window, noting the address. His eyes moved to a second plastic window on the opposite side of the wallet and his gaze lingered there.

A small, tight smile appeared on Rashman's face and Joe groaned inwardly; Rashman had just made the connection between Joe and Fenton Hardy. From past experience in these kinds of situations, Joe knew this revelation would not work in his favor.

Reaching out, Rashman placed two fingers under Joe's chin and lifted his head. Using his thumb, he grasped Joe's chin, turning his face towards Malick. Joe winced, but stifled a painful moan.

"Hurt, does it?" Rashman smiled, noting the very swollen, purple bruise along the left side of Joe's jaw line. He pressed down hard, causing Joe to flinch but still he remained silent.

"This is your idea of torture?" Malick asked in disgust.

"I haven't even warmed up yet," Rashman replied ominously. "You see this is why you haven't moved up in the organization," he continued, abruptly changing the subject and leaving Malick utterly confused.

"Huh? What are you talking about?"

"You don't pay any attention to details. For instance, look at him." Rashman tugged on Joe's chin once more. "In the eyes. What do you see? Or rather, what don't you see?"

Malick peered at Joe closely, although he had no idea what he was supposed to be looking for.

"Fear," Rashman said simply. "He has no fear. Well, not yet anyway," he chuckled.

Releasing Joe's chin, he handed Joe's airline ticket back to Malick, all the while his gaze never leaving Joe's face.

"Read it," he ordered. "Name and destination."

"Joe Hardy. Bayport," Malick replied.

Returning Joe's wallet to Malick, he said, "Now the drivers license."

Again, Malick repeated Joe's name and read his address off the license.

"And what about the other license?"

"I don't understand…" Malick began, getting frustrated.

"Read it!"

"Fine. Joseph Hardy. Private…" he stopped and looked at Joe. "Private investigator."

"Joseph Hardy." Rashman smiled. "Private investigator. From Bayport. Even you must know what that means." He turned to look at Malick.

Finally, Malick understood what Rashman had already known. "Fenton Hardy," he said, gazing at Joe. "You're Fenton Hardy's son."

Suddenly Rashman lunged forward, grabbing Joe by the throat and slamming his head back against the fence post. It was the first show of emotion Rashman had made, causing Joe to become very nervous.

Rashman brought his face up just inches from Joe's and began squeezing his throat.

"Your old man is the reason my brother is rotting in prison right now." He squeezed harder and Joe began gasping for air. "Knowing I can finally get even with him is going to make my job that much more enjoyable. It'll be sort of like killing two birds with one stone, as the saying goes." He pressed down on Joe's throat, squeezing as hard as he could, completely cutting off Joe's supply of air.

Malick watched for a moment as Joe struggled in vain to escape Rashman's grip and finally stepped forward tugging on Rashman's arm.

"Hey, come on. We have to find out what he did with the envelope. Once we get that information you can do whatever you want with him. Send him back to Daddy in little pieces for all I care, but we need that envelope first."

Just when Joe was sure he was going to pass out from lack of oxygen, Rashman released him. Gasping and taking in huge lungfuls of air, Joe slumped forward and was abruptly stopped by the chains holding him to the fence. He moaned involuntarily, as pain surged through his badly burned left arm from the pressure exerted by his weight pulling down on the chain attached to his wrist.

Rashman stepped back, his face neutral once again. "Little pieces," he murmured, still staring at Joe. "I just might do that."

Turning his back on Joe he started to walk away then stopped for a moment. Returning to Joe, Rashman smiled at him.

"You know, technically, it should be impossible for you to escape. However, I'm one of those people who believes nothing is impossible. So let's take care of that little detail right now and put my mind to rest, shall we?"

Reaching into his pocket, Rashman pulled out a knife holding it in front of Joe's eyes, making sure he got a good look at it. Joe could feel Rashman's breath on his shoulder. Leaning in closer, Rashman whispered in Joe's ear. "Let's just make sure that, should you somehow get out of these chains, you still won't get very far."

Dropping to his knees, Rashman drove the knife into the top of Joe's right foot. Gasping at the sudden sharp pain, Joe pulled on the chains that held him but made no other sound, frustrating Rashman with his silence.

"Doesn't hurt enough? Let's see if we can fix that."

Driving the knife in further until the hilt was flush against Joe's skin, Rashman could see Joe was in agony, but refused to give him the satisfaction of a verbal confirmation. Growing angry when Joe didn't respond, Rashman began slowly turning the knife until finally Joe screamed out in pain. Satisfied, Rashman smiled and gave one final push on the knife before pulling it out.

"Now that's what I like to hear."

Joe's breath came in short, labored gasps. He could feel the beads of sweat dripping down his face. Shifting his weight, Joe attempted to stand on his uninjured left leg, hoping to ease the intense pain radiating from his foot. Looking down he saw the blood steadily dripping from the open wound and felt lightheaded. He closed his eyes, not sure what hurt more, his bleeding foot or his burned arm.

'_On the bright side,'_ Joe thought, sarcastically. _'At least it made me forget how much my jaw hurts.'_

Opening his eyes, Joe watched as Rashman walked to the car on the other side of the campfire and began looking through the trunk. Every once in a while he would glance at Joe, look at something in the trunk and shake his head.

Joe knew Rashman had barely begun to torture him and vaguely wondered how much punishment it would take to cause him to pass out. His heart started to beat a little faster as he saw Rashman straighten up and begin walking back towards him.

The light from the fire glinted off something dangling from Rashman's hand. As Rashman passed the campfire, Joe recognized the object he was carrying. Panic rose inside him and Joe fought to keep it from showing in his eyes. He tensed up as Rashman drew closer, never taking his eyes off the heavy chain dangling from the bald man's hand.

'_You can do this. Frank will be here. He won't let you down. Just hang on a little longer,'_ Joe told himself, hoping he could remain silent.


	7. Chapter 7

Thank you very, very much to Mebabs, Midst Ride, Polaris (I laughed out loud at "Joe, why did you ever try and use the bathroom?" :D ), TraSan (Flaming ducks?? I practically howled!! :D Can I use that?!), josie, Calathiel, No1butjoe, MissMe113 (Hope your foot feels better! LOL! And I'm so glad you hate Rashman so much. That's exactly what I'm going for. ;-) ), Miss Fenway (I'm evil?? :0 Thank you!! :D ), Helen (Yeah, I think sadistic is Rashman's middle name.), pally and Alicia (I hope your heart doesn't bleed out of your chest; you'd never find out how the story ends! And since you're enjoying it so much – LOL! – we wouldn't want that to happen!) Thanks to all of you for leaving such kind reviews! :-)

Thanks to everyone who is reading. :-)

Just a reminder that the story is rated T and it's gonna be a while yet before Joe is found so… yeah, that pretty much covers it.

**Vanished**

**Chapter 7**

Fenton Hardy stared intently at the small monitor, a cold fear eating away at his heart as he watched the videotape flickering before his eyes. He saw his younger son being dragged through the crowded airport by two men, raising not so much as a curious glance from the other travelers. Suddenly a security guard appeared in the picture, giving Joe a once over while listening to what the large, bald headed man was saying. The guard nodded and laughed, as if exchanging an inside joke with the man and then stepped aside to let them pass.

"I'm sorry, Fenton." George DiSantos' voice floated over his shoulder. "Their story made perfect sense if you didn't know what was really going on."

Fenton leaned back in the chair and rubbed his eyes tiredly. "I know, George." Still, he couldn't help feeling slightly angry at the guard who had let the two mobsters leave the airport with Joe. _'If only he had checked out their story a little more thoroughly Joe would be safe now instead of God knows where, being subjected to...'_

"Dad, here's the file."

Opening his eyes, Fenton saw Frank standing there, copies of the file Joe had hidden in the trashcan in his outstretched hand. George stood slightly behind Frank leafing through the original.

"I called the Secret Service. They're on their way," George said, not looking up from the file. Seconds later he let out a soft whistle. "Wow. A hit on Senator Hurley. Looks like Joe stumbled onto some pretty nasty business."

Frank had taken a seat next to his father and was now rewinding the tape of Joe and the two men. Watching as his unconscious brother was pulled through the throngs of people, Frank's own words came back to haunt him.

'_I'll always be there for you, Joe. Always.' _

Frank's vision blurred from staring so intently at the screen as he cursed himself for the millionth time that night. _'And where were you when he __really__ needed you?!'_

"Frank?"

Frank turned to look at his father and saw fear in his eyes. If his father were so afraid for Joe that he couldn't keep it hidden, Frank knew his brother was in serious trouble.

"The Secret Service will be here soon. I'll see if they'll help in the search for Joe but I don't hold out much hope. Their only concern will be for Hurley. Essentially we'll be on our own."

"No, you won't Fenton," George spoke up. "I feel somewhat responsible for this. I'll give you whatever help I can."

"Thanks, George," Fenton smiled. "Can you get me any more information on Rashman and Malick? And this syndicate they work for? Local headquarters? Safe houses? Anywhere they might have taken Joe? They wouldn't have wasted time taking him too far away."

"They've got to have a location somewhere around here where they would take a hostage," Frank interjected. "Even just a general area would be helpful. We just need somewhere to start looking."

"A friend of mine works on the police department's task force for organized crime. What he doesn't know about the Chicago syndicate isn't worth knowing." George reached for the phone. "Let me give him a call and explain the situation. I'm sure he'd be happy to meet with you and give you any information he can."

As they waited for the officer to arrive, Frank and Fenton studied the file Joe had left, hoping for any clue as to his whereabouts. While it gave them very specific details about the planned assassination of Senator Hurley, it gave them no clue what so ever about where Joe could have been taken. About thirty minutes later, their task was interrupted by a flurry of activity as several Secret Service agents entered the small security office.

After introducing themselves to George DiSantos they were led to the Hardys where another round of introductions were made.

"Special Agent Justin Gray." A young man in his mid-thirties, with light brown hair and hazel eyes extended a hand to Fenton. "It's an honor to meet you, Mr. Hardy. I've crossed paths with several people who've been lucky enough to work with you. They have nothing but good things to say."

"Thank you, Agent Gray. But to be honest I'd rather be home in Bayport right now," Fenton replied shaking the young man's hand.

"I understand your son has some information for us," Gray said looking at Frank.

"I didn't really get into it with him on the phone," George interrupted, explaining Agent Gray's obvious confusion. "Why don't we sit down."

After they all took a seat, Fenton and Frank took turns explaining what had happened from Vanessa's phone call regarding Joe's missed flight to the video of Joe being taken from the airport. Gray listened intently to the entire story before opening the file George had given him. As soon as he saw the instructions for the assassination of Hurley, he inhaled sharply, immediately arousing Fenton's suspicions that things were not quite what they appeared to be.

"Is something wrong?" he asked the agent.

"A planned assassination attempt on the Senator is always a concern, Mr. Hardy," Gray replied vaguely.

"I'm sure it is, but I'm just as sure it's something you routinely plan for. There was obviously something else in that file that raised your concerns to a much higher level," Fenton said evenly, staring at the agent.

"Senator Hurley isn't the only high level official that's going to appear at this dinner."

"Who else is scheduled to attend?" Fenton asked, not being familiar with the planned event.

"It was never publicly announced. It's been a closely guarded secret. Sort of a surprise for the high rollers paying all that money to attend. Very few people know about it." It was apparent Gray did not want to divulge the mystery guest's identity.

"I'd venture to say it's not quite as closely guarded as you had thought," Fenton snapped. "So who is this mystery guest?"

Agent Gray hesitated, obviously not wanting to answer.

"Gray, the bad guys apparently know who your mystery guest is and based on your reaction you think they are planning to kill him or her. Now why don't you let the good guys in on your little secret, too," Fenton suggested, his patience wearing thin.

"The President," Gray said simply.

"The…_President_?" Frank asked, shocked. "The President of the United States is supposed to appear at this dinner, too?"

"Yes. And my guess is these guys are planning to assassinate both Hurley and the President."

Fenton sat back and rubbed a hand over his face. _'How do you manage to get yourself into these things, Joe?'_ he thought tiredly. "Okay, so thanks to Joe, you're now aware of an attempted assassination plot against the President and the most powerful man in the Senate. What's your next move?" Fenton asked.

"I'd love to cancel the whole thing but I'm not sure either one of them will agree to it," Gray replied.

"If you cancel, there will have to be a public announcement," Frank said, apprehension evident in his voice.

"Yes," Gray replied.

"As long as Rashman and Malick think the event is still on and no one has discovered their plans, they need Joe alive to tell them what he did with the file."

"So? I don't follow where you're going with this?"

"If you cancel the event and announce it, the file is no longer valuable to them… and neither is Joe," Frank replied as an uneasy silence befell the room.


	8. Chapter 8

Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed! You made a crazy, busy weekend a little less crazy! :-)

Thank you to all who continue to read.

**Vanished**

**Chapter 8**

Vanessa rolled over and stared at the clock on the bedside table. 3:22 a.m. She hadn't closed her eyes all night knowing she couldn't possibly sleep, but somehow being in Joe's old room helped temper her thoughts and fears.

It did nothing however, to lessen the worry she felt that this time Joe had gotten in way over his head. Vanessa knew he would have called her if he had been physically able to. Not having heard from him meant one of two things – he was either too badly injured to call or…

"No," she whispered. "He can't be."

It seemed impossible, but as horrible as they were, the events of the past several months – her rape, Joe's murder trial, his sudden recollection of the horrors he had endured as a small child – had actually served to bring them closer together. Closer than they had ever been before. For some reason, Vanessa felt she would know if Joe were dead. Something inside her would have died along with him and right now the only thing she felt was pain. An overwhelming pain in her heart so intense she knew without a doubt that Joe was in agony. She prayed that whatever was happening to him, whatever he was being subjected to, he could find a way to hold on until Frank and Fenton found him. Vanessa couldn't bear to face the rest of her life without him.

Joe was the only one who really understood her anymore. He knew when she needed to be held and when she needed to be left alone. When she was scared or depressed; what might trigger a flashback and the most terrifying of all – when a flashback was imminent. He also knew just what to do to bring her back from those flashbacks.

'_He can't be dead. I can't face my demons without him. Not yet,' _Vanessa thought as the fear inside her grew. _'Please, Baby, wherever you are, hang on,'_ Vanessa begged him silently_. 'Frank will find you if you can just hang on.'_

oooOOOooo

"Let's start again, shall we?" Rashman said. Drawing his arm back, he swung the heavy chain a few times to gain momentum before snapping it forward, catching Joe squarely in the chest.

Joe cried out in pain as his knees buckled. His arm screamed in protest as it was once again yanked back by the chain. Inadvertently standing on his right foot, he felt the knife wound tear open a little bit more.

"Where's the envelope?"

Breathing heavily, Joe glared at Rashman but refused to say a word. Rashman shrugged and wound up striking Joe with the heavy chain once again, unmoved by Joe's painful cry. Rashman repeated the question over and over. Each time Joe refused to answer, he was subjected to the same excruciating penalty.

Several minutes later Rashman threw the chain, on the ground. Leaning over, he put his hands on his knees and tried to catch his breath.

"I have to hand it to you, Blondie," Rashman said between breaths. "You're tough. I think it's going to be a long night." He stood up and walked away, only to return several moments later holding a bucket. Wordlessly he held the bucket over Joe's head and turned it upside down.

Joe gasped out loud as the freezing cold water drenched him, causing his numerous injuries to scream in protest. Choking momentarily on a mouthful of water he had accidentally inhaled, Joe felt a sharp pain in his chest with every single breath. He saw the now familiar flash of the camera as Rashman apparently intended to capture each new torture on film.

"I'll be back in a little while." Turning his back on Joe, Rashman joined Malick in front of the blazing fire, which was just far enough away to offer Joe no warmth at all.

No longer able to hold himself upright, Joe tried to keep the chains from pulling on his left arm as he sagged forward. His arm was throbbing, his foot was sending out waves of pain at regular intervals and he had heard a few ribs crack on the third strike of the chain. Shivering, Joe found he was now having difficulty breathing and felt his heart beating faster. Despite feeling somewhat disoriented and having trouble staying focused, Joe was still aware enough to know he was starting to go into shock. Beaten, bloody and in unbearable pain, one thought flitted through his mind…

'_Please hurry, Frank...'_

oooOOOooo

As difficult as it was to see, Frank sat and watched the video of his brother, unconscious and helpless, being dragged through the terminals of O'Hare Airport. He studied the two men who had kidnapped Joe, wanting to be certain he would be able to recognize them instantly when he saw them. Frank was determined to get his brother back alive, no matter what. He heard footsteps approaching and looked up into his father's worried face.

"George's friend from the task force is here," Fenton said in a reserved undertone. "He found a small office where we can talk privately."

Frank glanced around at the Secret Service agents, who were oblivious to what was going on around them.

"They'll want to speak with him, too." Fenton tipped his head towards the agents. "If they get to him first, we may not get to speak with him until it's too late – if we get to see him at all."

Frank nodded as he switched off the video and followed his father down the hall. Turning left, they entered an office with a small conference table, several chairs and a computer sitting off in the corner.

"Frank, this is Detective Carlos Sanchez," Fenton made the introduction. "Detective, my older son Frank."

"Good to meet you, Frank," Sanchez said, shaking Frank's outstretched hand.

"You too, sir," Frank replied taking in the tall, lean man with jet-black hair and eyes almost as dark.

"Carlos, please," he requested. "George has briefed me on what happened to Joe." The four men took seats around the table. "I don't want to alarm you Mr. Hardy, but this is probably the most vicious and violent crime syndicate in the country. The sooner you find you find your son, the better."

"Carlos, if we can't find him right away, what are the chances Rashman and Malick will let him go if he tells them what they want to know?" Frank asked, now more concerned than ever.

"Truthfully?"

Frank nodded silently.

"None," Carlos replied without hesitation. "They'll kill him as soon as they have the information they want. That's why it's imperative you find him as soon as possible."

Frank looked at his father and they both realized they were in a race against the clock without a clue as to where to begin looking for Joe.

"Do you have any idea at all where they might have taken Joe?" Fenton asked. His voice was calm and steady but the worry and despair in his eyes was unmistakable.

"They generally take their hostages to very remote locations. Places where they can basically torture their victims freely without having to worry about anyone hearing their screams." Carlos couldn't begin to imagine how hard this must be for the Hardys to hear, but he wanted to make sure they knew exactly what they were up against. They had to make every second count if there was to be any hope of finding Joe alive. "They move around a lot; never use the same location twice in a row. We haven't been able to catch them in the act. We usually find out about their location when hikers or campers report finding a body," he said, obviously frustrated.

Frank sat back and closed his eyes for a moment, feeling sick to his stomach as he thought of what his brother must be going through.

"Are you all right, Frank?" George asked quietly.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Frank lied. "So you have no idea where they may have taken Joe?" he said, despondently.

"I didn't say that," Carlos replied. "There are only so many remote areas within a few hours drive of Chicago. We have been tracking them and we think we may have finally uncovered a pattern." Reaching into a jacket pocket, he pulled out a flash drive and looked questioningly at George.

George stood and quickly made his way to the computer, turning it on.

"Apparently they ran out of new locations because it seems they have been backtracking. Bodies have recently been found in areas very close to the first two locations they used," Carlos explained as he, Frank and Fenton followed George to the computer, hovering behind him as they waited for the programs to load. "We think they are now going back to the same general areas they've used before, although not the exact same spots. If our theory is correct, I can give you a good idea of the area where they might have taken Joe."

For the first time since this nightmare began, Frank felt a faint glimmer of hope. He watched as the computer screen lit up with a map of Chicago and it's outlying areas. Red dots marked specific locations far outside the city. He listened intently as Carlos explained the pattern he believed the syndicate was using and pointed to a very remote area where he thought Joe might be held. Watching as his father took very detailed notes, Frank thought of his younger brother with a heavy heart.

'_Hang on, Joe. We're coming.'_


	9. Chapter 9

Polaris: So glad you like Carlos. He's a good guy. :-) I'm insane? And cruel?? Why, thank you! :D (And you betcha I'll be reviewing your next chapter!)

No1butjoe: I hope you have a strong heart, the rescue might be a while in coming. ;-)

Calathiel: You'd never know Joe and Vanessa are my most favorite characters, huh? LOL!

Alicia: Girl, you always, always, ALWAYS make me laugh out loud!! ALWAYS!! And I can't ever thank you enough for that! Frank using up his monthly radar quota on Joe being late?? "You're about to die, homie." :D I promise I will fix this mess, but I can't promise it will be anytime SOON! And I agree about needing different size fonts or SOMETHING! (And stop writing so fast, willya?? I'm still two chapters behind on your story!!)

Pally: Yup, I think the poor boy is in some serious pain.

Miss Fenway: LOL! Frank is doing the best he can, he really is! :p

Helen: Thank you so much! So glad you like Vanessa here. But you're right – no _quick_ happy ending for Joe this time. (You're writing too fast, also, along with Polaris and Alicia! All my favorite authors are churning out chapters like crazy just when my life is getting crazy-busy and I don't have time to read and review properly!)

Josie: I love that you hate, Rashman, but you hate me too?? Sniff, sniff… :-( I only write what the voices in my head tell me to write! It's not my fault! Yes, it's okay to like Carlos. He's just what he appears to be – a good guy. :-) And you're right – it's only chapter 8… A 'Yay' here is probably a bit premature.

MissMe113: I was howling at your review! :D I was just using my hedge clippers on Sunday so I've got 'em close by if you need to borrow them!! :p

Midst Ride: GASP! I'd never kill Joe! I love him! Doesn't mean I won't torture him to within an inch of his life though. ;-)

TraSan: You are wise to wonder at what point death seems like a good option. ;-)

Amblewat: Thank you! I'm glad you're enjoying the suspense.

It warms my heart that so many people hate Keith Rashman. When I first got the idea for this story, he was supposed to be more of a bumbling idiot kind of bad guy, but he had other ideas. He took on a life of his own and well… he is what he is… and I like him much better this way. ;-)

A big thank you to everyone who is reading!

**Vanished**

**Chapter 9**

Tired of laying in bed, letting her imagination run wild with awful images of what Joe might be going through, Vanessa got up and quietly walked downstairs to the living room. Turning on a lamp she walked to the mantle over the fireplace, gazing at the pictures Laura had placed there. With a sad smile, she picked up a framed picture of her and Joe. Curling up on the couch, she stared at Joe's smiling image.

"Please, hang on, Baby. They'll find you. Don't give up," she whispered, knowing the longer Joe was missing, the less chance she had of ever seeing him again.

Clutching the picture to her chest, she cried.

oooOOOooo

Laura awoke suddenly. Staring at the ceiling for a moment, she realized she was alone in bed and wondered where her husband was. Immediately everything came flooding back to her. Joe had disappeared. Frank and Fenton had gone in search of him. She had spoken to her husband after he arrived in Chicago with Frank. They found the file Joe had left behind. Other then alerting them to a planned assassination of Senator Jacob Hurley, they had run into a brick wall. He had promised to call when he had more information. She hadn't heard from him since.

Sitting up, Laura propped the pillows behind her back, and gazed out into the darkness. She knew why Fenton hadn't called again and it wasn't because he had no new information. She knew her husband and her older son; they had to have uncovered more information as to what had happened to Joe by now. She also knew that whatever they had uncovered was not good and that's why there had been no more phone calls. Laura sighed knowing Fenton was trying to protect her, to keep her from worrying about Joe. Didn't he realize her imagination was worse than any truth could be? Or was it…

Hearing movement in the hall, Laura listened intently. Soft footsteps padded down the stairs, fading as they reached the first floor.

'_Vanessa.'_ Laura's heart broke for the young girl.

Why had life suddenly taken such a cruel turn for Joe and Vanessa? Prior to the beginning of the year, they were the happiest couple Laura had ever seen. Since the day they met, it seemed as if they were destined to be together. Soul mates. Vanessa had slowly brought Joe back from that horrible place in his soul, where he had taken up residence when Iola Morton died. She was outgoing, fun loving, adventurous and always had a smile on her face. A mirror image of Joe. He had fallen for her right away, hard and fast. Laura had seen immediately that Vanessa was different from the endless string of girls Joe had dated after Iola, and thanked God many times for bringing her into Joe's life. Their relationship – their life together – was the envy of most of their friends… until that awful night.

Laura still shuddered whenever she thought about the phone call Fenton had received from Police Chief Ezra Collig. Vanessa had been raped and the police couldn't find Joe to let him know. It had fallen to Fenton to break the news to their youngest son. That one horrible night was the catalyst that had sent Joe and Vanessa's perfect life spinning out of control.

Joe had been arrested and tried for murdering the man who had raped Vanessa. Thanks to Frank he had been found innocent but not before the trial had opened up a Pandora's box of memories Joe had been repressing since childhood. He had almost lost his sanity, but again Frank was there to pull him back to his family. When Vanessa had been kidnapped three months later, it was Frank who kept Joe on an even keel until they were able to find her.

Suddenly Laura felt as if a weight had been lifted from her. Frank had always been there for Joe, at the lowest points in his life, the ever-protective older brother. Saving Joe from himself and anyone else who tried to do him harm. She knew in her heart Frank would not return home without the younger brother he adored.

Hearing muffled cries from downstairs, Laura got out of bed and put on her robe and slippers. She hoped that somehow, she could bring Vanessa to that same realization.

oooOOOooo

_Antigua. Vanessa. Frank and Callie's wedding. Vanessa. Central Park. Vanessa. She said yes! Vanessa. Holidays. Vanessa. New York City. Vanessa. Mom. Vanessa. Dad. Vanessa. Frank…_

'_God, Frank, where are you…'_

Desperate to block out the pain, Joe had spent the past hour trying pull up the happiest memories he could recall and focus on them. It had worked initially, but the burns, bruises, broken ribs, open wounds and burning lungs all conspired against him vowing not to be ignored. Even the relief of Rashman ignoring him had worn off long ago.

Joe hadn't had to endure any new torment in the past sixty minutes, but even that didn't offer much comfort. He knew Rashman had much more in store for him. At one point Joe had the crazy idea that Rashman didn't want him to tell them where he had hidden the file – Rashman seemed to be having too much fun and apparently didn't want it to end anytime soon.

_Hot Wheels. Bear. A new bike. GI Joe. Roller blades. Socks. A leather jacket. Play Station. Sneakers. CD's. DVD player. Computer games. Skateboard. _

'_It doesn't hurt. It doesn't hurt. It doesn't hurt…'_

_A new car! Skis. Snowboard. A weekend away with Vanessa. Camping with the guys. Tickets – concerts, football games, baseball games, hockey games, the races…_

'_Please, hurry, Frank…it hurts.'_

Trying to remember favorite gifts he'd been given helped for a little while, until movement in front of the campfire brought an immediate halt to Joe's imagery. He watched as Rashman and Malick got up and walked to the trunk of the car – or as Joe now thought of it, the chamber of horrors. Malick pulled out two sleeping bags, while Rashman retrieved a glass jar and gallon jug of water. Malick walked to the campfire and began spreading out the sleeping bags, while Rashman continued on towards Joe.

'_Great. More water. Freezing temperatures. Broken ribs and burning lungs. I see pneumonia in my future,'_ Joe thought, wondering what else he'd have to go through before this was over.

Putting the glass jar on the ground, Rashman placed two fingers under Joe's chin, raising it slightly. Rashman looked him in the eyes for a moment and smiled, not saying a word. Removing the cap from the jug of water he held it an inch from Joe's lips.

"Want a drink? You must be thirsty by now," Rashman teased.

Joe simply glared, knowing Rashman had no intention of letting him have even one precious drop of water. The last time he'd had anything to "drink" was when Rashman poured the bucket of water over him earlier and he had accidentally inhaled some of it. With a chuckle, Rashman lifted the jug over Joe's head and tilted it, slowly moving it over his arms and upper body, making sure every part of his body was soaked.

Even though he was prepared this time, Joe still gasped at the chill of the cold water. Initially, it felt good on his arm, quieting the throbbing pain caused by the burns, but his relief was short-lived. Once the initial coolness had worn off, his numerous injuries screamed louder than ever.

When the jug was empty, Rashman smiled again. "I'll be back in a few minutes, once that water has had time to…sink in. Then I'll introduce you to your new friends," he smirked. With a glance at the jar he had placed on the ground at Joe's feet, Rashman turned and walked back to the campfire.

'_Friends?'_ Joe thought looking down at the jar.

By the very dim light thrown off by the fire, Joe could see something moving inside the jar. More than one something. As he tried to make out whatever was angrily attempting to escape from its glass prison, he began to shiver uncontrollably.


	10. Chapter 10

As always a big thank you to all who have reviewed and to everyone who is reading. :-)

**Vanished**

**Chapter 10**

Frank Hardy sat next to Chicago Police Detective Carlos Sanchez, huddled over a map of remote areas far outside the city. They had been poring over the map with Carlos pointing out the possible places Joe could have been taken.

"This one is about ninety miles northwest of the city but it will probably take you at least two hours to get there. It's not a straight shot," Carlos explained, going over the route with Frank. "I'd try it before any of the others. Based on their recent pattern, it's by far the most likely place they'd take him."

Frank nodded studying the map intently.

"I really wish I could go with you, but I've been working a case undercover for the past six months and I finally got a meeting with the top guy in the smuggling ring we've been trying to crack," Carlos said apologetically.

"You've already been a big help," Frank assured him. "Without you, we wouldn't even know where to begin looking. You've saved us a lot of time."

"I just wish I could do more." Carlos glanced at his watch and stood up to leave, hesitating a moment.

"What is it?" Frank asked, sensing he wanted to say something more.

"Just…be prepared, Frank," he said vaguely.

"Prepared?" Frank repeated, puzzled. "For what? Meeting up with Rashman and Malick?"

"No… I meant…" Carlos stopped, thinking maybe he shouldn't have said anything at all.

"Come on, Carlos. You can't say something like that and not explain it."

"Prepare yourself for what you're going to find. He gets some kind of perverse pleasure out of photographing his victims as they are being tortured and sending one to the family. I've seen some of those pictures, Frank. Your brother…he's going to be in bad shape. Just be ready for it," Carlos said sadly.

Frank swallowed hard, extending a hand to the detective. "Thanks again for all your help," he said hoarsely.

"Good luck. I hope you find him in time."

As he watched Carlos Sanchez walk away, Frank sank back into the chair and put his head in his hands.

oooOOOooo

Down the hall, Fenton Hardy was in a heated discussion with Justin Gray and several other Secret Service agents along with their superiors in Washington, D.C. via conference call. He had been trying to convince them to spare a few agents in the search for Joe. Gray seemed inclined to agree but as Fenton had feared, his superiors didn't think that finding Joe was a top priority.

"You just said you wanted to catch them. If you find Joe, you'll find your assassins!" Fenton pointed out trying to keep the condescension out of his voice.

"True, but they aren't the brains behind the organization, just the muscle. We'd rather catch the top level of the syndicate," the supervisor in D.C. replied.

"So you won't even spare _one_ agent to help find my son?"

"I just can't see my way clear to do that. We'll need every agent we have working on this right in Chicago."

"You do understand if not for Joe you never would have known about the assassination attempt," Fenton retorted.

"And we are very grateful."

"But not grateful enough to care whether he lives or dies." Fenton tried to keep his voice steady.

A heavy sigh came through the speakerphone. "I'm sorry, Mr. Hardy. I cannot spare any agents to help search for a kidnapped civilian."

"But the kidnapped civilian is the only reason we know about this," Justin Gray reinforced what Fenton had already said. He wanted to help the Hardys find Joe; he felt they owed them that much, even if his superiors didn't seem to agree. "I'm sure I can spare…"

"I'm sure you _can't_, Agent Gray," the voice said coldly. "I'm sorry, but the answer is no. I do hope you understand, Mr. Hardy."

"No, I don't understand at all," Fenton replied, making sure his contempt and disgust was clear to all. Standing up, he turned and left the small office, slamming the door behind him.

Leaning back against it, he felt the emotions he'd been keeping suppressed all night demanding to be released as his eyes started to burn with tears. He had no idea how he and Frank were going to find Joe on their own. This was the most important search he had ever undertaken in his life, and he was not at all sure they had any chance of succeeding.

"They won't help, huh?"

Fenton opened his eyes and saw George standing in front of him, sympathy in his eyes.

"No," Fenton replied quietly.

George reached out and squeezed his friend's shoulder. "Fenton you're the best at what you do. If anyone can find him, you can."

Fenton smiled weakly at his friend. "Thanks."

"I just wish I could do more to help you." The two men walked down the hall to the office where Frank was waiting.

"Getting Carlos here was a huge help, George. If not for him we really would have no clue where to start looking for Joe. And we can't waste time searching blindly."

"Just let me know if there is anything else I can do." George stopped next to an open door.

"We'll need a rental car," Fenton said, hopefully.

"Already done. I'll go get the details on where to pick it up," he replied, continuing down the hall to his office.

oooOOOooo

Frank rubbed his eyes and glanced at the clock on the wall. Five thirty in the morning. After Sanchez's comment about the pictures, he couldn't stop thinking about Joe and what might be happening to him, yet he'd give anything to be able to block those thoughts from his mind. All night he had been listening to everyone talk about these two men who had taken his brother, and their callous disregard for human life. He didn't miss the sympathetic looks people would throw his way when they thought he wasn't looking or the whispers about a wild goose chase. Frank realized with a shudder, that he was no longer as confident that they would find Joe, alive and unhurt, as he had been upon arriving over eight hours ago.

Checking the clock again, Frank was frustrated to see another ten minutes had passed. He could hear the ticking of the clock echoing in his ears, mocking him. Time was not on their side and every second they waited was another second Joe was being subjected to God knows what kind of abuse at the hands of these animals.

Frank was a firm believer in science, in fact, tangible things he could see for himself. Yet he also believed, with all his heart, that he and his brother shared a special bond that no one else understood. He prayed that Joe would use that bond tonight to survive whatever was in store for him.

'_I won't let you down, Joe. I'll find you.' _

Reaching forward, Frank picked up the three pictures lying on the table in front of him. Keith Rashman, Dennis Malick and Joe. Carlos had spent several hours with Frank going over detailed maps of the area where he believed Rashman and Malick had taken Joe. Sanchez had apologized profusely for not being able to narrow down the area any further. While Frank was grateful for all the help Sanchez had given them, he came to the depressing conclusion that searching for Joe was going to be like looking for a needle in a haystack. The area Sanchez had pointed out was wide-open, unoccupied, desolate land that few people had any reason to visit.

Once they had concluded their meeting, Frank had gone to make still pictures of Rashman and Malick from the security videotape. The task had been easy and he had spent the past forty-five minutes awaiting his father's return from his meeting. They planned to leave as soon as possible for the area Sanchez had directed them to. They would pass through several small towns en route, where they planned to stop and ask the locals if they had seen Joe or his captors, hence the need for the pictures.

As Frank's mind began to whirl anew with horrible images of his brother being beaten and tortured, he was relieved to hear his father's voice drifting down the hall, getting louder as he approached. When Fenton appeared in the doorway, Frank knew immediately the news was not good.

"They refuse to help," Fenton said simply.

"What?" Frank asked, unbelieving. "How can they say no? If it wasn't for Joe…"

"I know, Frank, but their answer is no!" Fenton snapped, the strain starting to wear on him. "We're on our own."

Exhausted from the emotional roller coaster, Frank suddenly felt his eyes fill with tears and quickly spun away from his father, hoping to hide them, but he was not quick enough.

Fenton felt a stab of guilt, for taking out his frustration on Frank who was obviously having a much more difficult time with this than Fenton had originally thought. Putting a hand on Frank's shoulder, Fenton gently turned his older son around to face him.

"I'm sorry, Frank. I didn't mean to take out my frustration on you."

Frank nodded, wiping at his eyes. He looked at his father and Fenton was struck by how young and vulnerable he suddenly seemed.

'_Sometimes I forget they're still my children,'_ Fenton realized, having become quite comfortable working side by side with his sons and looking at them as equals. _'Sometimes I forget they still need their Daddy.'_ He pulled Frank into him and hugged him tightly.

"I'm scared, Dad," Frank whispered. "Will we even be able to find him? What kind of shape will he be in if we do? Will he even be alive?" Frank questioned his father, suddenly filled with doubt. Pulling away, his deep brown eyes reflected the intense fear he felt for his younger brother.

Fenton placed his hands on Frank's shoulders and stared into his eyes – eyes that so often mirrored his own. He could hear the hesitation in Frank's voice and knew he was terrified that he would never see Joe alive again.

"We _will_ find him, Frank. And he _will_ be alive. I came out here to bring my son home – not retrieve his body," Fenton said with absolute certainty.

"Excuse me." Justin Gray entered the room interrupting their conversation. "I have some news."

Frank's heart stopped, as he was certain the man was about to tell him Joe's body had been found.

"What is it?" Fenton asked, fearing he already knew the answer.

"The fund raiser has been cancelled. We'll be making the announcement first thing this morning."

"No!" Frank cried out. "You can't do that! You'll be signing Joe's death warrant!"

"Believe me, I explained the circumstances of the situation, but my superiors felt that it was prudent to cancel the event and announce it as soon as possible," Gray said, hating himself for not standing up to those who had disagreed with him. He had never liked the idea of sacrificing one innocent person to save another, no matter how powerful the 'other' person was.

"Just give us one day to find him. We have a lead now. We know where to start looking for him," Fenton begged.

"I'm sorry," Gray said simply.

"You've already refused to help us search for him. The least you can do is give us a little time to find him on our own. All I'm asking is that you put off announcing the fundraiser has been cancelled for twenty-four hours. As long as they think it's still happening they need Joe alive to tell them where that file is. As soon as you announce the cancellation he's useless to them. They'll kill him immediately. Please, just give me one day to find my son," Fenton pleaded with the agent.

"Again, I'm sorry, but that's just not possible."

"Why not?" Frank asked angrily. "Joe mistakenly gets a file and has the presence of mind not only to hide it, but gets word to us that he did. If not for him you never would have known about this! He saved not only the life of Senator Hurley, but probably the President as well!"

"Yes, it would seem so," the agent acquiesced.

"And in return you can't even give us twenty-four hours to find him?" Fenton said, incredulous.

"I'm sorry, but we have to announce the cancellation now. Do you have any idea how many people will be inconvenienced if we put off this announcement for another day?"

Frank watched in shock as his father's tenuous grip on his temper gave way completely. Grabbing Agent Gray by the front of his shirt, Fenton threw the agent up against the wall, his brown eyes shooting fire at the stunned man.

"_Inconvenience_?!" he bellowed. "Are you saying my son's life isn't worth inconveniencing a few people?!"

Justin Gray was about to reply that it was closer to a few thousand people who would be inconvenienced when it hit him that somewhere along the line he had turned into one of those cookie cutter government agents that he had always detested. The ones who followed the party line without question and no longer thought for themselves. Hurley was safe. The President was safe. If not for Joe Hardy there was a very good chance they both would have been assassinated. He didn't even need to think about it.

"You have twenty-four hours."


	11. Chapter 11

Can't say it enough – thank you to all who continue to read and review! :-)

**Vanished**

**Chapter 11**

Within minutes of being doused with the cold water, Joe had begun to visibly shake – shivering from the rapid drop of his body temperature. As hard as he tried, Joe could not keep his teeth from chattering and he was beginning to lose the feeling in his fingertips. As much as he wanted to ignore the glass jar at his feet, his eyes were drawn to it. Whatever was in the jar was not happy about the forced confinement and Joe had a feeling he was going to be the recipient of that wrath.

The mind games Joe had been playing with himself in an effort to keep his thoughts otherwise occupied were no longer working. While thinking of Vanessa had previously given him strength, it now only served to remind him of the hell she must be going through, not knowing what had happened to him. Whereas thoughts of Frank had been accompanied by hope of rescue, now they were reminders of how much abuse Joe had already endured and forced him to acknowledge the worst was probably yet to come.

Joe tried to block out the voice in his head that insisted on telling him he was going to die long before he was found, but it grew louder by the second. As Joe watched, Rashman got up from his seat in front of the campfire and approached. Joe could swear he heard the voice in his head laughing at him.

"My associate and I are going to catch a few hours of sleep. But I don't want you to get lonely so these little guys are going to keep you company." The man smiled, apparently amused at Joe's inability to stop shivering.

He held the glass jar up so Joe could get a good look at what was inside. Involuntarily, Joe's eyes grew huge and his heart seemed to leap into his throat.

"Now as long as you remain perfectly still, these little critters won't bother you at all."

As he watched Rashman slowly unscrew the lid, Joe understood what the second dose of water was for. Shivering and shaking as he was, there was no way he could possibly remain still.

"But if you keep shaking and chattering like that, you'll get them all worked up. When that happens they feel a need to defend themselves."

Joe swallowed hard, wanting desperately to control the fear that clutched at his heart.

"You know there are over one thousand known species of these. It's a popular misconception that they are all deadly. In reality only about twenty of them cause death in humans." Rashman paused for a beat, making sure he had Joe's full attention before he continued with a taunting smile. "I don't really remember which species are in this jar. I do know that when any of them decide to sting, it's excruciatingly painful. In any case, if you are stung by one of the deadly species, as long as you relax and remain calm, your chances of dying from the venom are relatively small."

'_He's bluffing. None of them are poisonous. If I'm dead I can't tell them what they want to know,'_ Joe tried to console himself, his eyes still riveted on the jar and it's occupants.

With that, Rashman very slowly raised the jar and tilted it over Joe's head, allowing the occupants to scramble to freedom in Joe's tangled, wet hair. Try as he might, Joe couldn't help but flinch when the numerous legs scampered over his head, sending a chill down his spine.

"Just try not to get them too upset and you'll all get along just fine." Rashman took the now obligatory picture, made his way back to the campfire and crawled into the warm cocoon of his sleeping bag.

For the first time since this nightmare began, Joe felt tears spring to his eyes as he silently prayed for divine intervention to get him through this latest horror. He was reaching the end of his rope and he knew it wouldn't take much for him to completely give up.

Desperately trying to control his shaking body and chattering teeth, Joe could feel the undersized, yet potentially deadly creatures slowly feeling their way along his scalp, searching for the quickest route off their newfound perch. As one of the small pests tumbled from his head and righted itself on his bare shoulder, Joe flinched once more, cursing himself for his inability to control the shudders that coursed through his body. This latest round of terror had barely begun and Joe was already starting to panic in a big way. He wasn't at all sure he could maintain any semblance of control until every single one of the creepy-crawly forms had found their way off his body.

He hadn't been able to get a good look at exactly how many scorpions had been in the jar before Rashman removed it from his line of sight. He could feel at least two still tentatively making their way through his hair; one resting quite comfortably on his shoulder and another that was now attempting to crawl onto his outstretched hand. A small cry escaped his throat as he realized that one must have fallen onto the fence behind him. As the tiny legs made their way along the soft skin of his arm, Joe felt the anxiety building fast and furious inside him and wondered how many more had yet to discover he was there.

Without warning, his over active imagination suddenly turned on him. Joe felt as if his body was covered with crawling insects. With his imagination running wild, Joe could no longer control the panic, resulting in a violent shudder that wracked his body.

Almost immediately, Joe felt a sharp, stinging sensation in his right shoulder that burned like liquid fire. Not wanting Rashman to know his plan had succeeded so quickly, Joe bit his lip to keep from crying out and tasted blood. The inferno in his shoulder hadn't even reached its peak yet when Joe was hit with a second unbearably agonizing sting near his wrist. The blood in his veins felt as if it were beginning to boil. As he inhaled sharply, his lungs screamed in protest.

Finding himself on the edge of a full-blown panic attack, Joe violently shook his head, hoping the two creatures that had yet to escape his tangled mass of hair would be flung into the darkness. He pulled his right arm as far forward as the chain would allow before slamming it back against the fence. Watching as the two remaining scorpions were ejected into the night, Joe sagged back, only slightly relieved. Within seconds, the intensity of the blazing inferno in his arm increased dramatically.

Collapsing back against the fence post, Joe could no longer keep the tears from flowing. Many times in his life, he had wondered what his own personal breaking point was. With a muffled cry, he knew tonight was the night he would find out for sure. As he choked back the sobs he didn't want his captors to hear, Joe began to cough causing his lungs to feel as if they would explode, and wasn't surprised to find himself spitting out a mouthful of blood.

'_You promised, Frank,'_ Joe thought despondently. For the first time in his life, Joe began to doubt whether his older brother could keep his promise. _'God, please help me…'_

…

Several yards away, warm and content in his sleeping bag, Keith Rashman lay wide awake, listening to the tell tale sounds of Joe's suffering.

'_This one's for you, big brother,' _he smiled.

Closing his eyes, Rashman heard Joe's muffled cries of anguish break the eerie quiet of the cold night. His only regret was that Fenton Hardy was not here to witness firsthand the torment he had brought upon his youngest son. The numerous pictures he had taken would have to do. Despite Joe's best efforts to be strong and keep his fear and agony hidden, Rashman knew it was now just a matter of time before Joe Hardy would break.


	12. Chapter 12

Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed. I think I replied to all of you personally. I tried to; if I did accidentally miss anyone, I apologize! The last several days have been kinda rough - sometimes life just sucks out loud - and your reviews made me smile. THANK YOU! :-)

Oh and I was thrilled that the scorpions creeped everyone out so much! LOL! And pallysam, was it?, who thought they'd be leeches... EWWWWWW!! Leeches creep ME out! LOL! :p

**Vanished**

**Chapter 12**

"We should hit the first town in about five miles," Frank said scrutinizing the map in his hands.

His anxiety had diminished only slightly once he and Fenton had finally gotten on the road a little over an hour ago. They had left the city far behind and had been making their way along winding two lane roads, rarely seeing another car, let alone any sign of life. As Frank gazed out the window at the desolate landscape, Carlos Sanchez's words continued to haunt him.

"_Your brother…he's going to be in bad shape. Prepare yourself."_

"Did you call Mom before we left?" Frank asked absently, wanting to rid himself of the awful images in his mind.

Fenton shook his head. "It was still pretty early. I was going to wait until our first stop," he replied, staring straight ahead.

"You don't actually think she was sleeping do you?" Frank looked at his father.

"No." He sighed heavily. "I guess I'm trying to put it off as long as possible. I don't want to lie to her, but I can't possibly tell her the truth either."

Frank understood completely and didn't envy his father at all. Normally he believed in complete honesty. He hated having things kept from him for his "own good". He also thought the imagination was very powerful and could usually come up with something far worse than reality. However, the knot in his stomach and the tightness in his heart told him this time the reality would turn out to be much more horrifying than anything imaginable. Carlos Sanchez had effectively gotten the message across that Joe was probably suffering immeasurably and time was of the essence.

"You don't have to tell her everything, Dad. Just give her the basic information. We know that Joe was kidnapped, we have a lead on where he might have been taken and we're on our way to check it out," Frank suggested.

"That's what I'm planning to do, but somehow she always knows when I'm not telling her everything."

"Do you want me to call her?" Frank offered.

Fenton smiled inwardly at the way Frank so easily fell into the role of "protector" no matter who he was with. "Thanks for asking but I better do it myself."

"Well, she may not press you for more information this time even if she does think you're holding something back."

"What makes you say that?" Fenton asked, puzzled.

"Vanessa," Frank said simply. "Mom won't want to lie to her but she won't want Van to get anymore upset than she already is. She'll probably think the less information, the better."

Fenton raised his eyebrows, contemplating Frank's insight.

"Up ahead on the right," Frank said, pointing. "A gas station."

Fenton pulled in and came to a stop at the pump. As he got out of the car and began filling it with gas, Frank took the photos of Joe, Rashman and Malick and entered the small store.

"Morning!" the smiling, middle-aged clerk called out from behind the counter, obviously happy to have some company. "How ya doin'?"

"Good morning," Frank replied. "I'm fine, thanks." Laying the pictures on the counter, he moved to the coffee station and poured two cups of coffee. "Were you working last night by any chance?" he asked over his shoulder as he prepared one cup of coffee for himself and one for his father.

"Sure was. Came on at eight last night." The man picked up the pictures curiously.

"Did you happen to see any of those men in here last night?" Frank asked, trying to keep the anxiety out of his voice.

"You a cop or something?" the man grinned, looking closely at the picture of Joe.

"Or something," Frank replied vaguely, moving to the counter.

Placing Joe's picture back on the counter, the man picked up the other two. He furrowed his brow as he looked at the picture of Malick, but when he saw the photo of Rashman his eyes lit up.

"He was here last night!" the man said excitedly, having visions of being a key player in capturing a wanted criminal.

"You're sure?" Frank asked, trying not to get his hopes up.

"Are you kidding? The guy looks like the Terminator! It was definitely him," the man replied with confidence.

"What time did he come in?"

"A little while after I came on duty. Probably around nine. He was my first customer of the night. This other guy," he continued, tapping the picture of Malick. "I'm pretty sure he was the one pumping gas, but the blonde – I never saw him," he said, referring to Joe.

Just then Fenton entered the store, coming to a stop next to Frank.

"They were here last night," Frank told his father. "At least Rashman and Malick were. He didn't see Joe."

"Did they say anything?" Fenton questioned the clerk.

"Only the bald guy actually came in. He seemed friendly enough, but didn't say much."

"Did he buy anything?"

"Besides gas you mean? Salt. And some water. A lot of it. Probably about eight gallons or so. Guess he was thirsty, huh?" the man joked.

"Apparently," Fenton replied, paying for the gas and the coffee. "Did you happen to see which way they headed when they left? Or what kind of car they were driving?"

"North." The man pointed. "In a blue Saturn. So what'd they do – kill somebody?" he asked jokingly.

Fenton winced inwardly and Frank openly flinched at the man's words.

"I hope not," Fenton smiled tightly. "Thanks for your help."

"Anytime." The friendly man smiled and waved as Frank and Fenton exited the store.

"At least we know we're on the right track. I just wish he had seen Joe, too," Frank said, worriedly.

"If Joe were unconscious, it would make sense that the clerk wouldn't have seen him. They probably left him in the car. And that would explain why Malick didn't go into the store too. He was keeping an eye on Joe in case he woke up."

"I know, but if he had seen Joe at least we'd have an idea of what kind of shape he was in," Frank said quietly, fear creeping into his voice.

"That was last night, Frank," Fenton said gently. "I'm sure a lot has happened since then."

"Yeah, I guess." Frank turned away from his father, squeezing his eyes shut hoping that would stop the burning sensation that had begun.

"Guess I'll give your mother a call before we get started."

Frank nodded silently. Opening the car door, he got into the passenger seat and leaned his head back.

'_Don't give up, Joe. Please don't give up. I'm coming just like I promised.'_

oooOOOooo

Vanessa sat at the kitchen table across from Laura, pushing the food around on her plate, wishing she could turn back the clock. Twenty-four hours earlier she had been following Joe around their apartment, dogging his footsteps, in an effort to get him to hurry up, afraid he was going to miss his flight to Chicago.

_"Don't worry, Babe. There's another flight leaving in an hour,"_ he had laughed.

'_Why was I in such a hurry to get rid of him?'_ Vanessa thought, miserably.

The shrill ringing of the phone broke the silence, causing Vanessa to jump. Watching as Laura answered it, Vanessa prayed it was good news.

"Fenton?" Laura said, knowing it wouldn't be anyone else at that time of the morning.

Vanessa sat up a little straighter, never taking her eyes off Laura's face, hoping to see relief and a smile replace the worry that was so evident. Laura listened for a moment then swallowed hard. Looking directly at Vanessa she simply shook her head no. Broken hearted, Vanessa felt her emotions swiftly starting to take control. Suddenly she had to escape. Joe was still missing and that's all she needed to know. The details wouldn't matter.

Getting up from the table, she fled back up the stairs to Joe's old bedroom, closing the door behind her. Leaning against it, she let her gaze slowly move across the room.

Vanessa was suddenly assaulted by memories as she recalled all the times she had spent in this room with Joe. Listening to music. Talking. Studying. Starting on homework that was never quite completed as Joe always distracted her…

"Where are you, Joe?" Vanessa whispered out loud as the tears slid from her eyes.

There was a soft knock on the door and Vanessa turned to open it, expecting to see Laura. Instead Callie was staring back at her, sympathy in her eyes. Ever since the night Vanessa had been kidnapped as a result of Callie's being blackmailed by enemies of the Hardys, their friendship had been strained. Vanessa had wanted to simply forgive, forget and move on, but Joe was having a much harder time dealing with the after effects, feeling both Frank and Callie had now betrayed him. Vanessa knew that had she not been taken hostage, it would have been much easier for Joe to understand why Callie had acted the way she did.

In the weeks that followed, Vanessa found herself stuck in the middle between the two. She wanted to resume her close friendship with her future sister-in-law and give her the opportunity to earn back the trust that had been violated. Even though Joe had forgiven Callie for her part in Vanessa being abducted, her actions had placed Vanessa in serious danger and that was something Joe was not so quick to forget. As a result, they had been spending much less time with Frank and Callie.

Looking at Callie and seeing the worry and concern on her face, Vanessa realized things had just started to change. In the past week, Joe had seemed ready to take the next step, even suggesting they get together with Frank and Callie on the weekend and "do something fun".

"They can't find him, Callie," Vanessa choked out the words.

Putting an arm around Vanessa, Callie guided her into the room where they sat down on the edge of the bed. Callie, unfortunately, had been in this same position more than once and knew exactly what Vanessa was going through. In spite of everything that had transpired as a result of her actions, Callie was determined to be there for Vanessa.

"Not yet. But they will," Callie said, giving her a reassuring hug. "You know they won't give up until they do."

Vanessa nodded silently and looked down at her engagement ring, thinking back to the night Joe had asked her to marry him.

"He thought I was going to say no," Vanessa said quietly, remembering that very special night. "I was so shocked that he even asked me, I couldn't speak." She laughed softly remembering the look on Joe's face. "It took me almost a whole minute to say yes."

She looked at Callie with a sad smile. "Can you believe he thought for one second I wouldn't want to marry him?" Quickly the smile faltered and then disappeared completely. "What if it never happens? What if they can't find him? Or what if he's…"

Vanessa squeezed her eyes shut, her lower lip trembling at the thought that Joe could be dead by the time they found him.

"They _will_ find him, Van," Callie said, hugging her friend. "You know Frank would never come home without Joe. Everything will be fine. You'll see."

As Vanessa finally broke down in tears, Callie held her tightly as she sobbed.

'_Please let him be okay,'_ Callie prayed. She knew that losing Joe would be the one trauma Vanessa couldn't possibly recover from.


	13. Chapter 13

Calathiel: I liked the guy in the gas station too. Yup, the water was explained… but what about the salt?? ;-)

Polaris: Glad you liked the 'sucks out loud'. It's good for when life sucks more than usual! :p Centipedes?? :o EWWWWWW!! LOL! You and pally are worse than me! Chapter 14 is standard for "let's rescue Joe", huh? I'm one of those people who is usually annoyingly EARLY for everything but alas, this time I am apparently late!! Joe's life is going to 'suck out loud' until at least chapter 16. ;-)

MissMe113: I LOVE your cheerleading Frank and Fenton on to 'victory'! LOL!

Helen: Thank you! I do try to bring things from previous stories into new ones, because isn't that how life really works? The past doesn't always stay in the past and sometimes changes the future. Or at least affects it in some way. Thanks! :-)

No1butjoe: LOL! I think you're right about the wives' 'lying' radar! And Laura Hardy ain't no fool. ;-)

TraSan: Oh, I know exactly what you mean!! This site has eaten more of my reviews and alerts than I can count! Glad you 'liked' the scorpions. That's exactly the kind of reaction I was hoping for! LOL! I loved the image of you leaning forward towards the computer hoping to move the story forward! But I know what you mean. If it's any consolation… chapter 16… that's the one everyone is waiting for, I think. And if I haven't mentioned it yet, I LOVE your nickname for Frank and Fenton – F2!! :D

Pally: Don't worry they'll find him eventually – and before he's 'toast'. LOL! But yeah, lots of healing time in Joe's future.

Midst Ride: Aw, thank you! I'm blushing! But I'm so glad you're enjoying it. Thank you! :-)

Alicia: I feel your pain!! When I comment on stories on _another_ site (wink, wink), I use huge fonts, different fonts, different colors, bolds, underlines, italics and loads of smiley faces to REALLY get my point across! LOL! So yeah, I'm with you – we need at least a size 36 font if nothing else!! :p And if I have a choice, I'd rather have the high five than the throttling, thank you very much! LOL! I just about DIED laughing at poor Joe and his encounter with your razor… AGAIN!! :D Since you asked so nicely (and it was time to post anyway!), here's the next chapter.

Miss Fenway: Yes, Joe will be fine… eventually… some day… but probably not any time soon. ;-)

Thanks to everyone who is reading! :-)

**Vanished**

**Chapter 13**

The intense burning sensations radiating up from where Joe had been stung by the scorpions had tested the limits of his pain tolerance and won. For the past few hours he had been drifting into unconsciousness when the pain of his combined injuries became unbearable. He had been on the edge of coming to when he felt something cold, smooth and wet encircle his neck. Whatever it was had gradually been pulled tighter and tighter until it was snug against his throat.

He felt the same thing being wrapped around his right arm and gasped when it was pulled snugly over the exact spot of the scorpion sting on his wrist. In spite of being only semi-aware of what was going on, Joe instinctively knew what was going to happen next and tried to brace himself. However exhaustion, shock and the throbbing pain that had consumed every part of his body all conspired against him. He let out an agonized cry as the same smooth, cold, wet something was wrapped around the burns and blisters on his left arm and pulled snugly against the fence.

'_I can't take anymore. I can't. Frank, where the hell are you?!'_ Joe fought to hold back the tears. As much as he wanted to give up so he could escape the unending pain, he still did not want Rashman to see him break down.

"Are you ready to tell us what you did with the envelope?" Rashman's voice echoed in his ears.

Thoughts of Vanessa suddenly floated through his mind, giving Joe that tiny bit of resolve he needed.

'_You can do this,'_ Joe told himself_. 'Just take it one minute at a time. One second at a time. Don't let them win.'_

Joe didn't even open his eyes to look at the man; he simply shook his head no. He heard a sigh and then a grunt, as if Rashman were straining to lift something. Opening his eyes just a crack, Joe saw the bucket just seconds before he was drenched with cold water for the third time. Unbelievably he had seen the water coming in time and was able to hold his breath, depriving Rashman of the pleasure of seeing him choke on it.

'_One for the good guys.'_ Joe clung to his small victory and wondered if he were becoming delirious.

"The new necklace and bracelets you're wearing are made of leather," Rashman told Joe. "They spent the night sitting in that bucket of water you're now wearing. Luckily, it's a gorgeous day, not a cloud in the sky. Over the next few hours, the leather will gradually dry from the heat of the sun."

Joe heard Rashman take a few steps and then felt the man's warm breath on his neck as he leaned in to whisper in Joe's ear. "When leather dries…it shrinks," Rashman finished with a chuckle. "Whenever you're ready to tell us what you did with the envelope, just holler – if you can."

As he heard Rashman's retreating footsteps, Joe felt his newfound resolve quickly slipping away.

'_No, Vanessa, don't leave me! I need you to get me through this,'_ Joe begged silently, as crazy thoughts that she might actually be able to hear him ran through his head. _'Please, stay with me…'_

oooOOOooo

The hours slowly passed and the sun rose higher in the sky as morning made it's way into early afternoon. Joe could feel the heat of the sun beating down on him knowing, under any other circumstances, he would be enjoying its warmth. Just as Rashman had predicted, the leather straps that encircled Joe's arms and neck gradually became tighter and tighter as they dried. He found that if he didn't move his head at all, took only short, shallow breaths and swallowed very gingerly, he could breathe. Still he could feel the rough edges of the leather digging in to the tender flesh of his neck.

Ironically, Joe realized the abuse he'd endured and its resulting injuries were actually helping him to cope with Rashman's latest torture – at least partially. Having had nothing to eat or drink for close to twenty-four hours, Joe didn't have the energy to move his head even if he wanted to. He knew he had a couple of broken ribs and possibly a punctured lung, given the searing pain he felt when he tried to breathe and the mouthfuls of blood he had been coughing up. Small gulps of air had been all he could manage without excruciating pain even before he had been adorned with the leather choker.

Joe did find it was much more difficult to disregard the now unbearably tight straps around his wrists, particularly the left one. It had been impossible to ignore from the moment Rashman had put it on and pulled it tight. More than once over the past few hours, the pressure on the burns Joe had sustained was so bad he couldn't help but shed a few tears.

Joe had hoped he might lapse back into the semi-conscious state he'd been in earlier until the first time he actually did. As his head lolled forward, the leather strap encircling his neck had cut off his air supply completely. When he was jolted awake, unable to breathe, he jerked his head upright. Taking in a lungful of air sent him into a fit of coughing which ignited the sharp, searing pain in his chest and ribs. When Joe saw Rashman smiling at him, enjoying the results of his latest torture, he vowed not to let it happen again.

More and more Joe clung to thoughts of Vanessa to help him get through the minutes that slowly dragged by. He tried to recall, in as much detail as possible, the weekend he'd taken her to New York City for her birthday. The five-star hotel he had splurged on – saving up for months beforehand. The Broadway play they had attended – one Vanessa had been longing to see for months. The nightclubs where they danced the night away. The romantic candlelit dinners. And on their final night, the magical carriage ride through Central Park, which had a fresh blanket of snow.

Joe managed a weak smile as he thought about the moment he asked Vanessa to marry him. When she didn't answer right away, Joe thought he had made a huge mistake. He got the impression she was contemplating whether or not to accept, although he now knew his proposal had left her speechless, something Joe knew they would joke about well into their old age. That single thought brought an abrupt end to Joe's reminiscence as he wondered if he would even make it to his twenty-fourth birthday, let alone old age.

Hearing footsteps, Joe looked up and saw Rashman approach. "Ready to talk?" he asked.

"If I …tell you…" Joe stopped, the tight leather around his neck making it almost impossible to speak and still breathe. "...you'll kill me…right away?" It sounded more like a request than a question.

"Yes."

Joe couldn't believe he was actually contemplating telling Rashman what he had done with the envelope if it would end his misery. It had finally dawned on Joe that his injuries were so severe he might not survive even if he were rescued. Why not end his suffering now? Joe tried to calculate how long it would have taken Frank to get to Chicago once he got the message Joe left. Surely Frank had found the envelope by now and alerted the authorities that Senator Hurley was in danger?

Just as Joe was about to speak, something stopped him. He wasn't sure if it was the look in Rashman's eyes, the ever-present thoughts of Vanessa that had been his source of strength or Frank's voice that echoed in the back of his mind.

_"I'll always be there for you, Joe. Always."_

'_Please don't let me down, Frank. I'm counting on you,'_ Joe thought as he resolved to hold on a little longer.

"Well…" Rashman prompted him.

"No," Joe replied.

Rashman shook his head. "I don't know if you're the toughest person I've ever faced or just plain _stupid_. Is some senator you don't even know worth all this?" He waited a moment for Joe to respond and was met with the now familiar silent glare from his captive.

Suddenly Rashman's head disappeared from sight as he crouched down in front of Joe. The leather strap around Joe's neck made it impossible for him to look down and see what was happening, igniting a small panic inside him. Without warning, his right foot exploded in pain where it had been slashed with a knife the night before. Joe let out an involuntary yelp, trying to pull his foot away from Rashman who held it tightly in his hands. He gasped as he felt Rashman tugging on his foot, reopening the laceration that had closed up somewhat during the night. Rashmans voice floated up to him from below.

"This is what's referred to as pouring salt in the wound."

The meaning of his words hit Joe at the exact moment the salt hit the once again bleeding gash on his foot. Gasping, hissing and grasping the chains tightly with his hands, Joe did everything possible to keep from crying out, knowing that was exactly what Rashman wanted.

'_Don't scream. Don't scream. Don't scream.'_

The tears burned in his eyes, squeezed shut in pain.

'_FRANK, WHERE ARE YOU?!'_

"You know how I hate it when you don't respond appropriately." Now standing again, Rashman towered over Joe.

The tall man watched somewhat placated as he saw how difficult it was for Joe not to verbalize the agony he was in. A few moments later, as the burning in his foot subsided a little, Joe was able to remain still for the most part, although his breathing was now quite labored.

Rashman found his patience starting to wear thin. No one had ever been able to endure this much without breaking and he was becoming increasingly frustrated by Joe's continued silence.

Joe stared at Rashman and thought he saw something change in the man's eyes. He felt a chill, this one from pure fear, when he realized Rashman was staring at him with malice and hatred. Somehow Joe knew he had crossed a line with his ability to remain silent, despite the escalating abuse. As far as Rashman was concerned, getting Joe to cry out in agony, beg for the torture to stop and reveal what he had done with the envelope was no longer just another assignment – now it was personal.

Rashman leaned forward until his face was just inches from Joe's. His eyes blazed with anger.

"I _will_ break you, Hardy. If it's the last thing I do."

Straightening up, he poured the remaining salt over the burns and blisters on Joe's left arm. When Joe responded with nothing more than a loud gasp and a tug on the chain, Rashman placed his hand on Joe's arm. Pressing down as hard as he could, he began to rub the salt into Joe's arm in small, slow, methodical circles. Within seconds Rashman was rewarded with the sound he had wanted to hear all along…


	14. Chapter 14

Thank you so much for the wonderful reviews! You guys are amazing. :-)

I promise… after this chapter you can stop saying, "Please hurry, Frank and Fenton!" ;-)

**Vanished**

**Chapter 14**

Frank stared out the window as his father drove along the empty stretch of roadway. The knot in his stomach had grown as the day had progressed and morning turned into afternoon. They had searched some of the areas Carlos had indicated with no sign of Joe or his captors. Frank had begun to get frustrated at their lack of progress and was growing increasingly fearful that when they did find Joe, it would be too late.

"We know we're on the right track," Fenton said as if he could read Frank's mind. "That woman in the store recognized Rashman immediately. And the manager of the fast food place remembered Malick coming in."

As they came across the small towns that dotted the route they were searching, they would stop and show the photographs hoping someone would remember seeing Rashman and Malick, or better yet that in the normal flow of conversation they would inadvertently leave some kind of clue as to where they were taking Joe. Although they would still present Joe's picture, they were fairly sure no one would have seen him.

"I know, Dad. It's just that the longer it takes us to find him…" Frank stopped. He'd had visions of his brother being beaten and abused all day and didn't want to put those terrifying thoughts into words, as if that could prevent the unthinkable from happening.

"He takes pictures," Frank said quietly.

"What?" Fenton's fingers involuntarily tightened on the steering wheel.

"Carlos told me that Rashman takes pictures as he's torturing his victims. He always sends one to the family."

Frank heard his father mutter something under his breath but couldn't quite make out what he said. A moment later he spoke again, loud enough for Frank to hear.

"His brother used to take pictures too. But he was never quite sadistic enough to send them to the family."

"You don't think he's sent one to Mom? Or Vanessa?" The thought clutched at Frank's heart. They had been purposely vague about what had happened to Joe when they called home. Frank couldn't bear the thought of Laura or Vanessa opening an envelope and being confronted with a picture of Joe suffering at the hands of Rashman.

"No, not yet. I don't think he's had time," Fenton replied easing Frank's mind somewhat. Glancing at the clock on the dashboard, he continued. "I think we should stop in the next town and get something to eat."

"What?" Frank cried out. "No, Dad, I don't want to waste time eating when Joe is still out there going through God knows what!"

"I understand that Frank and I don't really want to do it either." Fenton sighed. He knew it was going to be a battle convincing Frank they needed to rest even if only for an hour. "Other than the few catnaps we've caught while the other was driving, we haven't slept in almost two days. We haven't eaten anything since early this morning and that wasn't much. We're no good to Joe if we get so tired and hungry that we can't put one foot in front of the other."

Frank didn't respond but he knew his father was right.

'_You have to hang on, Joe. You promised you'd give me time to earn your trust back. You've never broken a promise to me before. Don't start now.' _

Leaning back against the seat he closed his eyes and drifted off into a light, restless sleep.

oooOOOooo

Rashman had taken great pleasure working the salt into the burns on Joe's arm as deeply as possible. Even though he had stopped a while ago, leaving Joe in misery, the intense burning had not let up at all. No longer able to put any weight at all on his right foot, it had taken all the strength Joe had left to keep himself upright. If he lapsed for just a second the result of his weight pulling on the chains increased the pain in every part of his body to almost unbearable levels. Reeling from the pain, Joe didn't know how much longer he could last at the hands of Rashman.

The throbbing in his left arm had increased intensely as the blisters and burns had begun to swell as a result of the salt that had been embedded in his arm. The sites where he had been stung by the scorpions continued to emit a raw, searing pain. Over the past few hours it had increased dramatically and now seemed to be slowly making it's way in towards his body. It seemed to Joe that one minute he was sweating profusely and the next he was chilled to the bone. As disoriented as he was, Joe knew he wouldn't be able to survive much longer.

With what felt like his last breath, Joe whispered three words…"Help me, Frank."

…

Sitting on the ground several yards away, Rashman and Malick were at their wits end as to how to make Joe talk.

"There isn't much more I can do to him without killing him," Rashman said frustrated. "Not that I wouldn't enjoy that immensely. I'd love to send Fenton Hardy a picture of his son's last minutes on earth."

"Well, we need to come up with something. We need to get that envelope back whether the hit is carried out or not," Malick replied.

Reaching forward, Rashman pulled one of the now cold logs out of the long dead fire. "Maybe a few swings of this will get him to open up. I know he can't take much more."

"Let's give it a try." Malick shrugged his shoulders. Standing, he picked up the camera and followed his partner, stopping just in front of Joe.

"I gotta hand it to you, Hardy. You've taken more than anyone I've ever dealt with. You should be dead by now. Do us both a favor and tell us what you did with the envelope," Rashman said.

"No." It took every ounce of strength Joe had left, which wasn't much, just to utter that single word. He had vowed to hang on as long as he possibly could, for Vanessa.

"Have it your way," Rashman shrugged.

Joe tensed as he saw Rashman hold the log as if it were a baseball bat. He prepared for a vicious swing unsure if he could survive one more blow. It felt as if every inch of his body had been beaten, cut, kicked or burned. He prayed this strike would be aimed at his head. With any luck he would pass out completely and escape this unbearable pain for a while.

Rashman drew the log back and was just about to let loose, when Malick grabbed his arm.

"Wait!" he cried out. "I have a better idea."

Joe looked at him and felt cold, hard fear at the glint in his eye, wondering what could possibly be worse than what they had already done to him.

'_God, Frank, what's taking so long??'_ Joe thought, knowing whatever Malick had in mind for him now, would make death seem like pure bliss.

Joe watched warily as Malick rummaged through the trunk of the car and came up with a First Aid kit. Opening the box, he pulled out a plastic bottle. Holding the bottle behind his back, he came to stand directly in front of Joe.

"This is your last chance – for now. Tell us what you did with the envelope and we'll leave. Someone will find you…eventually. Otherwise, we'll come back later. After you've regained consciousness. And start all over again…" he said ominously, holding the bottle in front of Joe's face.

Reading the label, Joe's eyes grew wide and he inhaled sharply, instinctively trying to pull away.

"No!" he gasped.

Malick reached out and grabbed a handful of Joe's hair. Pulling him up, Malick held Joe's face just inches from his own.

"Where is it?" he demanded.

Joe looked from the bottle to Malick and back again. He knew he was weakening, his resolve almost gone, and was tempted to tell them what they wanted to know.

'_Just tell them,'_ Joe thought, suddenly feeling defeated. _'Something must have gone wrong. Frank isn't coming this time.'_ He knew Frank and his father had to have found the envelope in the trashcan by now. He could tell Rashman where he had put it without fear Senator Hurley would be killed. And it would put him out of this seemingly endless misery. Assuming he was going to die here in this desolate place, Joe opened his mouth to speak when Vanessa's face suddenly forced it's way into his mind.

'_Van…'_ His eyes burned at the thought of leaving her alone. What would happen to her if he died? How could she deal with his death on top of everything else? Would she be able to get past it? Move on? Find someone else? He was the only person she trusted; the only one she felt safe with.

'_I can't do that to her. Frank will come. He promised. Just hold on a little longer. He'll be here!'_

Joe clamped his mouth shut and stared straight ahead, trying to gather what little strength he had left. Telling them what he had done with the file was a veritable death sentence. He couldn't do that to Vanessa. He had to hang on just a little bit longer. Joe focused on Vanessa completely, willing her to keep him alive until Frank could find him.

"Still not talking?" Malick waved the bottle in front of Joe's seemingly glazed over eyes. "Suit yourself." He took a few steps back and unscrewed the cap on the bottle. "At least you won't have to worry about infection."

Joe braced himself for the excruciating pain to come, knowing nothing could really prepare him for the agony that was just seconds away. He prayed he would quickly pass out once the liquid hit the open and bleeding wounds on his body.

Drawing his arm back, Malick let the alcohol fly, soaking Joe's tortured body. Inhuman screams split the night air. Smiling, Malick and Rashman watched Joe writhing in pain, pulling on the chains that held him securely in place, until he finally passed out.

"Let's go get a bite to eat," Rashman said. "He should be just about coming to by the time we get back."


	15. Chapter 15

MissMe113: I LOVE your cheerleading!! :D And I laughed at your dreaming about ways to kill the baddies! LOL! (Pssst… people you really need to go check out 113's oneshot fic called _Fritos_. It is too adorable!!)

TraSan: I really don't like awake thinking of ways to torture Joe; it's actually when I'm out running. :p I've gotten all kinds of great story ideas while running (although Joe might disagree as to how 'great' they are, especially the rubbing alcohol - OUCH!). Of course then I have to keep repeating them to myself over and over so I don't forget them before I can get home and write them down. Needless to say, I get some strange looks from people as I pass them by! I'm the crazy woman who talks to herself while she runs! LOL! Hmmm… F2 and Rashman/Malick getting something to eat at the same time… Coincidental? Maybe… maybe not. ;-)

Helen: Glad you liked the parallel between Joe thinking of Frank and Rashman thinking of his brother. The fact that the two sets of brothers are so close plays into a future story very heavily.

Calathiel: LOL! Yeah, I think Joe's owies are going to need a little more than chocolate and a band-aid. But I'm sure he'd appreciate the chocolate anyway! So you think the good guys and the bad guys might run into each other at the restaurant too… ;-)

Mischief: Thanks for the review! I seem to be getting called cruel a lot with this story! :p And another vote for crossing paths at the restaurant. :p

Polaris: OMG!! I just about died laughing! You're thinking like evil bathroom kidnapper/assassins!! :D Given what you're doing to poor Frank in your story, I'm not sure that's a bad thing! :p

Josie: Joe is standing up. Well at this point the chains are probably the only thing holding him up, but yeah, he's upright. I have to laugh at all the name calling of Rashman. You use one word and get right to the point and Polaris uses every name she can think of! :p Ya know you were one of the only people who picked up on the salt… Glad you're all caught up! Here's another chapter for you! ;-)

Beachchick: IS THIS FAST ENOUGH?? LOL! But I don't like those maraschino cherries in that sickly sweet juice. Fresh cherries are awesome though! ;-) Thanks for the review!

Thanks to all who are reading. :-)

**Vanished**

**Chapter 15**

Vanessa sat at the table with Laura and Callie, staring at her plate. Every once in a while she would take a bite of food, not tasting a thing. Had anyone asked, she would not be able to tell them what Laura Hardy had prepared for dinner that night. Looking at her watch, the lump in her throat grew. Joe had been missing for over twenty-four hours. She hadn't spent all these years with Joe and not learned a few things. She knew the longer he was missing, the less chance there was of finding him.

"Van? Do you want to go sit in the living room?" Callie asked. "It'll be more comfortable."

Vanessa looked up and noticed the table had been cleared and Laura was in the kitchen starting on the dinner dishes. She had been so caught up in her own thoughts she hadn't even noticed.

"I'm sorry," Vanessa apologized. "I should help with the dishes. I wasn't much help here." She waved her hand over the now spotless table.

"No, Van. She doesn't want any help. I think she just wants to be left alone for a little while," Callie said gently, leading Vanessa towards the living room.

Vanessa was suddenly hit with a wave of guilt. She had been so caught up in letting everyone comfort her it hadn't occurred to her that Laura would need comforting too.

"How could I be so uncaring?" Vanessa said miserably, dropping her head into her hands as soon as she sat down on the couch. "I've just been letting her take care of me, not even thinking about how she must be feeling."

"Actually, I think that was good for her," Callie said comfortingly. "It gave her something to focus on."

Vanessa almost felt envious. She hadn't been able to focus on anything other than Joe since the moment she realized he'd missed his flight.

"And I think you need something to focus on, too. Why don't you tell me what you and Joe are going to do when he gets back."

Vanessa looked at her with haunted eyes.

"Callie…what if he never comes back?"

"He'll come back," Callie said with conviction. "I'm sure he's still got a few glares and choice words he hasn't hurled in my direction yet," she joked, knowing how angry Joe still was with her for the part she played in Vanessa's recent kidnapping.

Vanessa smiled in spite of herself. "Actually, I think he's ready to forgive and forget. He asked me to call you and see about the four of us going out to do something fun this weekend."

"What?!" Callie gasped, half-jokingly. She knew what she had done, betraying Frank and giving in to the blackmailers, was almost unforgivable in Joe's eyes. Adding in the fact that Vanessa had been kidnapped because of it and she thought it would be much longer than a month or so before she could even begin to earn her way back into his good graces.

"He really does understand what you were thinking; what you were going through. If I hadn't been taken hostage his reaction would have been very different," Vanessa reassured her friend. "In fact he forgave you a while ago. It's just taken him a lot longer to deal with the aftermath. I think he really misses you."

"Well, I know I miss him," Callie said wistfully.

"So do I," Vanessa whispered.

oooOOOooo

Frank mindlessly pushed the food around on his plate, his thoughts revolving completely around his brother. Where was he? Was he cold? Hungry? Hurt? Was he even still alive?

"Frank, you have to eat something. We don't know what kind of shape Joe will be in once we find him. I can't be worrying about him and you too."

"Sorry, Dad." Frank took a small bite of his cheeseburger, not really tasting it.

Seeing the worry in Frank's eyes, Fenton reached across the table and squeezed his shoulder. "We'll find him, Frank."

"What if we find him and he's already…"

"He's not!" Fenton said, fiercely. "He can't be," he whispered, consumed with guilt. _He_ was the one who had sent Joe on this assignment. It was supposed to be an easy task with no element of danger at all. Yet somehow Joe had vanished into thin air, only to end up in the hands of one of the most violent organized crime families in the country.

Seeing the haunted look on his father's face, Frank opened his mouth to try and reassure him when the words suddenly stuck in his throat. His eyes were fixed on two men who had just gotten out of a blue Saturn parked by the door. Fenton turned to see what had his son so mesmerized and gasped out loud as the men entered the restaurant.

Malick and Rashman, unaware they were being watched, waited for the hostess. As she greeted them, she led them to a booth right next to Frank and Fenton, which was divided by smoked glass for privacy.

As the men approached and were seated, Fenton slid down in his seat so as not to be seen by Keith Rashman. Although it had been years since Fenton testified at the trial that had sent Craig Rashman to prison for the rest of his life, he was unsure whether or not Keith Rashman, who had attended his brother's trial every day, would still recognize him. Fate had suddenly dropped these two men in his lap, and he didn't want to take any chances on losing this solid lead to Joe.

A moment later a waiter appeared and after placing their orders, the two men began talking quietly with Frank and Fenton able to hear every word.

"What else can we do to get him to talk?" Rashman said, frustrated. "He's half dead already and he hasn't said a word yet. I'm running out of things to do to him."

"I know, I know. I thought for sure just showing him that bottle of alcohol would have him singing like a bird." Malick visibly shuddered. "That had to hurt like hell."

Frank looked at his father in alarm, knowing without a doubt they were talking about Joe. He could see the worry in his father's eyes but they both remained silent. Frank prayed that his brother's stubbornness hadn't finally gotten him killed.

"Damn," Malick said suddenly.

"What?"

"I hope the coyotes don't smell the blood and get to him before we get back. He won't do us any good if he's dead. We better get this stuff to go." He stood and went in search of their waiter.

As he waited alone in the booth, Rashman's cell phone rang.

"Yes?" he answered simply. "Yes. I understand. Yes, we'll take care of it right away." Snapping the cell phone shut, he waved Malick back to the table. "We have to go. The event has been cancelled," he said vaguely. "We're to eliminate the problem on this end and make sure we clean up…leaving _nothing_ behind."

Frank kept the expression on his face neutral, but his heart skipped a beat.

'_Eliminate the problem? Leave nothing behind?' _

He looked at his father and realized they were thinking the same thing. Despite Agent Gray's promise to give them twenty-four hours, there had obviously been a public announcement canceling Senator Hurley's fund raising dinner. As a result, Rashman and Malick had just been ordered to kill Joe and dispose of his body where it would never be found.

"Let's go," Fenton said. Turning so only his back would be visible should the men in the other booth look over, Fenton stood up and threw some money on the table, then quickly led Frank out of the restaurant.

As soon as they were outside, Fenton walked rapidly to their rental car while talking to Frank over his shoulder.

"Did you see which car was theirs?"

"The blue Saturn." Frank pointed to the car right next to the entrance.

Opening the trunk of their car, Fenton began searching through the small overnight bag he had packed. He pulled out a leather case and opened it up. Frank recognized the transmitter and receiver his father had recently purchased.

"Not knowing what kind of trouble Joe had gotten into, I thought I should bring this along just in case." Fenton handed the receiver to Frank. "Get in the car. I'll be right back."

Frank slid into the passenger seat and turned on the receiver, then watched as his father casually placed the transmitter under the bumper of the Saturn, looking to anyone else as if he were picking something up off the ground. Frank fiddled with the receiver until he picked up the transmitter's signal just as his father got into the car.

"From what they said, I'm guessing they must have Joe somewhere very isolated," he said grimly, recalling how the two men had blithely discussed the way they had apparently tortured and beaten his son. "It will probably be impossible to tail them without being spotted."

"What's the range on this?" Frank asked.

"Don't worry. We won't lose them no matter how far ahead of us they get."

"I just don't want them to get so far ahead of us that they have time to kill Joe before we can stop them."

"That will never happen," Fenton replied. Frank felt a chill at the tone of his father's voice and suddenly wondered if these two men realized what they had let themselves in for by kidnapping and beating Joe. He'd never seen the full force of his father's wrath turned loose on anybody but he distinctly remembered Sam Radley telling him about it once. _'He makes Joe look like a pussy cat.' _


	16. Chapter 16

It's been a very rough two weeks for me and I can't possibly thank you enough for your reviews. I've read and re-read them more than once to escape real life just for a few minutes.

MissMe113, thank you again. The timing of your review was fate. It was a bright spot in an otherwise very dark day. :-)

I think this is the chapter you've all been waiting for. And hopefully you'll all stop threatening me with bodily harm now! :p

**Vanished**

**Chapter 16**

Frank sat in silence, consumed with worry for his younger brother. Based on what little he had overheard of the conversation at the restaurant, he couldn't even imagine what had been done to Joe and prayed he would still be alive by the time they found him. The car they had been tracking for the last half hour seemed to be heading steadily north when it suddenly veered to the west.

"They turned left about a mile up ahead," Frank told his father.

About a minute later, Fenton turned on to a rutted dirt road that could have easily been missed even in broad daylight let alone the fading light of dusk. After approximately a quarter of a mile, a split rail fence appeared on their left. There were a few hills that still offered them some cover but after another half mile, they seemed to disappear leaving nothing but scrub brush and hills large enough to hide a human being but not a car.

"They stopped," Frank said suddenly, his heart beating faster. Was he finally about to find his brother?

"And so are we. There's not enough cover to continue in the car." Fenton opened the door and stepped out. Checking his gun, he glanced over to make sure Frank had done the same. "Let's go."

Quickly but quietly they made their way the last quarter mile on foot, using the small hills and brush for cover. A few moments later they heard voices. After getting as close as possible without exposing themselves, Frank and Fenton crouched behind the scrub brush and blinked a few times as their eyes adjusted to the fading light. Looking straight ahead, Frank's heart leapt into his throat. He prayed he wasn't really seeing what his mind told him he saw.

"No!" he whispered, his voice breaking. Immediately his eyes began to burn.

'_Oh my God. Please let him be alive,'_ Fenton thought. Staring at his youngest son chained to the fence, the blood turned to ice in his veins.

At first glance, it appeared Joe's upper body was covered with dirt. Frank gasped as the realization washed over him. It wasn't dirt – Joe was covered with blood, cuts and bruises. Frank felt his stomach turn as his eyes wandered over his brother's body, finally coming to rest on his left arm. Bright red in some spots and blistered in others, he could see Joe's arm was severely burned.

He heard his father make a strangled sound and knew they were thinking the same thing - no one could be beaten like that and survive.

Frank was both horrified and relieved when he heard a low moan escape Joe's lips. That was enough to turn Frank's fear and worry into an almost uncontrollable rage.

Hearing Rashman rummaging through the trunk of the car, Frank tried to make out what he was doing. Seeing the tall, muscular man straighten up, Frank vowed he would pay for what he had done to Joe. Suddenly, Frank understood all the times Joe had threatened the man who had raped Vanessa; threatened to take the law into his own hands. He realized if he had the chance to kill this man without being caught, he wasn't absolutely sure he'd be able to stop himself. Glancing at Fenton, he saw the hatred in his eyes and knew his father was probably thinking the same thing.

Having found what he was looking for, Rashman straightened up and then dropped a heavy chain on the ground behind the car, identical to the ones that held Joe securely to the fence. He then walked over to Joe, stopping directly in front of him, a gun in Rashman's right hand.

Grabbing a handful of Joe's hair, Rashman viciously pulled his head up, resting the barrel of the gun on Joe's forehead. Frank could see Joe had awakened and was staring at Rashman with a dazed look on his face.

"Good news, Hardy," Rashman said to Joe. "I've been ordered to kill you."

…

In severe shock and unaware that his father and brother were only a few feet away, Joe had finally given up hope. _'Thank God.'_ He wanted nothing more than to be free of the pain, no matter what the cost. _'I'm sorry I couldn't hang on. I tried, Van, I really tried. I love you, Baby,' _Joe said to himself, wanting his last thoughts to be of Vanessa. Focusing on Rashman's hand, Joe saw his finger start to pull back on the trigger. He felt an overwhelming sense of relief as he waited for the shot that would end his life, and with it, his suffering. Yet for some reason Joe couldn't understand, there was nothing but silence…and the pain continued.

Rashman began to chuckle, slowly bringing the gun down to his side, yet keeping a tight hold on Joe's hair.

"You'd like that wouldn't you. To be put out of your misery."

"Why?" Joe whispered, as he realized Rashman had no intention of killing him. Not yet.

"Yeah…why?" Malick echoed him nervously. "Just kill him and let's finish this job."

"No," Rashman said, contempt in his voice. "This is personal now. And I'm not through with him yet." Abruptly he released Joe's hair, laughing as Joe choked on the leather strap still around his neck, the pain it caused him clearly evident on his face.

As had happened each time before, the burns on his arm were stretched by his weight pulling on the chains, resulting in unbearable pain. Exhausted from almost twenty-four hours of continual abuse, Joe didn't even have the strength left to verbalize the agony he was in. Nothing other than a whimper escaped his lips.

Stepping back, Rashman aimed his gun at Joe's knee, applying slight pressure on the trigger. "Too bad Daddy isn't here to see this."

A voice cut through the night, "He is," followed immediately by a gunshot.

Dropping the gun, Rashman cried out holding his right arm where he'd been shot. He looked up, shocked to see Fenton Hardy coming towards him, his eyes burning with rage. Walking next to his father, Frank held his gun steady, keeping it trained on the two men who had so callously beaten his brother. As they passed the car, Fenton grabbed the heavy chain Rashman had carelessly discarded, and continued to advance on the two men menacingly.

Suddenly there was a flash of movement and Rashman was lunging at Joe with a knife! Reacting instinctively, Frank pulled the trigger again, this time hitting Rashman in the shoulder. Watching as the big man fell to the ground clutching at his shoulder, Frank's hand started to shake as he took aim at Rashman's head. How much he wanted to pull the trigger one more time…

As the Hardys came to a stop in front of Rashman, Malick instinctively took a few steps back, his hands held high. He had seen the look in their eyes and for the first time in his life, he felt fear. He knew they were supposed to be the "good guys" but one glance at Joe told him the line between good and bad had suddenly blurred.

Fenton towered over Rashman, staring down at the man with revulsion. With stunning swiftness he took one swing with the heavy chain and smiled grimly when he heard the sickening crack as it connected solidly with Rashman's head. Rashman fell back unconscious, blood beginning to seep from the back of his head. His knife lay on the ground at Joe's feet.

Before Malick realized what had happened, Fenton threw the chain over his head, wrapped it around his throat and pulled it tight. Using the chain to steer Malick, he turned the red headed man towards Frank and forced him to walk forward, pulling him to a stop in front of his oldest son.

"Kneel on the ground. Hands behind your back," he growled, ignoring the sputtering, choking noises Malick was making and his panicked attempts to dislodge the chain.

Gasping for air, Malick quickly did as he was told. As soon as Frank had put handcuffs on him, Fenton shoved Malick to the ground face first, kneeling on his back. He continued pulling the chain tightly around Malick's neck.

Frank watched uneasily, as Fenton did not seem to let up even when Malick began gesturing frantically, clearly on the verge of passing out from lack of oxygen. He heard Sam Radley's voice again.

"_Your father's temper can make Joe look like a pussy cat."_

As Frank watched in shock, Fenton removed the chain from around Malick's throat and quickly and viciously swung it downward, catching Malick in the back of the head, knocking him out cold.

Frank looked at his father and shuddered. Fenton's eyes held no remorse.

"_Dad_…" It was barely a whisper and laced with pain.

Fenton turned to look at his youngest son as the color drained from his face. Their eyes locked for a moment, before Joe shifted his gaze to his older brother.

"You…came…" Joe managed. He let out a final sigh, closed his eyes and slumped forward.

Rushing forward, Frank reached out a shaking hand and placed it on Joe's neck, searching for a pulse. He waited then moved his hand a fraction of an inch. Waiting again, he moved his fingers once more. After a third try with no success, he finally gave in to the panic.

"Dad! I can't find a pulse!" Frank cried out in anguish, turning to his father. "We're too late! He's dead!"


	17. Chapter 17

Thank you again for your kind reviews. You really don't know how much they have helped me recently. You guys are the best! :-) Thank you!

**Vanished**

**Chapter 17**

Fenton gently pulled his older son back and reached out, placing a much steadier hand on Joe's neck. He prayed the tight piece of leather still encircling Joe's neck was the reason Frank hadn't been able to find a pulse. Holding his breath, he waited…and waited. Just as he was about to pull his hand away in defeat, he felt it. A pulse! Weak and very shallow, but a pulse none the less. He exhaled loudly – Joe was alive!

"Check the trunk!" Fenton began barking orders at Frank as he searched Rashman's pockets for the key that would unlock the chains holding Joe to the fence. "Grab anything we can use…water, towels, blankets. Anything."

Frank stood rooted to the same spot, staring helplessly at his brother, his emotions changing by the second. Anger, heartache, pain, anguish, unbridled fury. _'I should have killed him when I had the chance!'_ He glanced at the unconscious and bleeding Rashman, stunned by his own emotions.

"Now, Frank! _Move_!" his father yelled.

Startled out of his daze, Frank raced to the car and grabbed everything he could carry.

Using the knife Rashman had dropped on the ground, Fenton very carefully cut the leather from Joe's neck and wrists. He felt a new wave of anger as he saw the deep red indentations they had left. Having found a key in Rashman's pocket, Fenton knelt down on the ground in front of Joe to unlock the chain holding his ankles to the post, praying it would fit in the lock. That was when he noticed the knife wound on Joe's foot. Reaching up, he gently touched Joe's cheek.

"I'm sorry, Son," he whispered. "I'm so sorry we didn't find you sooner." Turning the key, Fenton breathed a sigh of relief as the lock popped open. Seconds later, Frank reappeared at his side.

"First aid kit, water, towels, blankets," Frank said breathlessly. "And he had Joe's shirt, jacket, shoes, socks and cell phone in there too."

"Pour the water on his arm; make sure you soak it completely. Then saturate a bandage with water and loosely cover his arm with it."

Fenton watched as Frank fumbled with the cap on the water bottle and his heart broke. He knew he shouldn't have to tell Frank what to do to help his brother. Frank had taken emergency first aid and was well aware of what needed to be done. Fenton didn't know if it was a blessing or a curse but his older son, who could remain calm and in total control in virtually any crisis, let his emotions take over when it came to Joe. He reached out and put a comforting hand on Frank's shoulder. Taking the water bottle, Fenton unscrewed the cap and handed it back to Frank.

"He'll make it, Frank," Fenton tried to reassure him.

Fenton waited until Frank was done cleaning and bandaging Joe's arm, then handed him the small key. He positioned himself to catch Joe once he was free of the chains. When he was ready he looked at Frank.

"Left arm first; then the right."

Nodding once again, Frank reached out to unlock the chain holding Joe's left arm securely to the fence. Inadvertently, Frank pulled on the chain trying to insert the key into the lock. Joe's arm brushed up against the hard wood of the fence and although he remained unconscious, he moaned in pain.

"It's okay, Frank," Fenton reassured him, as the lock clicked open.

Frank quickly pulled the chain away, throwing it on the ground. Joe awkwardly fell forward into his father's arms, as his right wrist was still secured in place. Stepping over his father, Frank unlocked the chain on Joe's right wrist and pulled it off watching as his father caught Joe before he fell to the ground.

"Blanket!" Fenton barked and Frank stepped forward wrapping one of the heavy blankets around his brother.

Laying Joe on the ground, Fenton pulled the bottom edge of the blanket back to get a better look at the knife wound on Joe's foot.

"Any water left?" he asked, curtly, examining the wound.

Frank silently passed the bottle to his father. Pouring some of the water onto a towel, he cleaned Joe's foot as best he could, wincing when Joe moaned and moved, as if trying to pull his foot away.

"Did you find a flashlight, by any chance?" Fenton asked looking at Frank, who produced one from the pile he had retrieved from the car.

Shining the flashlight on Joe's foot, Fenton leaned down for a closer look. He thought back to that morning and recalled the gas station attendant telling them Rashman had purchased salt along with gas and water. He realized what the white residue in and around the wound on Joe's foot was and fought to choke back the hatred that rose in him.

Watching silently, Frank saw his father's jaw twitch. Seconds later, Fenton Hardy opened his eyes and glared at the unconscious Rashman.

"You son of a bitch," he hissed at the man. "You will pay for this. I promise you that."

Returning his attention to Joe, Fenton wrapped his foot in a clean bandage and covered Joe with the blanket once again.

"Don't worry, bro. We're here now," Frank whispered, kneeling close to Joe. "I won't let him hurt you again."

Fenton let Frank continue talking to Joe while he used the chains that had held Joe to the fence to secure Rashman and Malick, making sure escape would be impossible.

Frank quickly collected up the gun, knife, first aid kit, remaining towels, blankets and other items. Running back to the car, he placed everything on the floor and spread a blanket on the seat,

Returning to his father, together they lifted Joe and began walking back to the car. "You sit back here with Joe; I'll drive," Fenton said.

They got Joe into the car and Frank spread another blanket over Joe cradling his brother's head in his lap.

As Fenton settled into the drivers seat, both he and Frank heard a wheezing, rattling sound and Joe began struggling to breathe. As Joe began coughing up blood, Frank froze. Fenton whirled around in the seat and leaned over trying to grab Joe's arms.

"Sit him up! He can't breathe laying down!"

Together, Frank and Fenton managed to get Joe into a more upright position. Frank wrapped his arms around his brother and held Joe tightly to his chest. Neither Frank nor his father moved until they heard Joe's breathing become a little easier.

Turning back around, Fenton started the car and pressed down on the gas pedal. "Hold onto him. It'll be bumpy until we get back to the main road but every second counts."

Frank held onto his brother trying to keep him as still as possible. Every once in a while, when Fenton would hit a particularly large bump in the rutted dirt road, Joe would groan out loud. Frank began to pray those wouldn't be the last sounds he heard from his brother.

"Hang on, bro. Just a little bit longer," Frank whispered in Joe's ear. "You made it this far; you can't die on me now."

As soon as he hit the main road, Fenton pulled out his cell phone. He was about to toss it back to Frank when he caught site of his two sons in the rear view mirror. Frank was holding onto his younger brother tightly, his eyes closed. Although Frank's voice was inaudible, Fenton could see his lips moving as he kept up a continuous, one-sided conversation with Joe. Fenton blinked rapidly. He couldn't even imagine the nightmare Frank's life would become if Joe died.

Taking his eyes off the road for a second, Fenton dialed 911. As soon as the dispatcher answered, he quickly but calmly explained what had happened and the extent of Joe's injuries. He answered several questions about Joe's condition as best he could and listened for another minute before hanging up.

"Frank?" he said, quietly, checking the mirror once again to make sure Frank had heard him.

"Yes?" Frank replied in a shaky voice.

"A MedEvac chopper is going to meet us a few miles up the road. They're going to take Joe in the helicopter." He waited, knowing Frank would not want to leave his brothers side.

"I won't be able to go with him," Frank whispered.

"I know, son, but the nearest trauma center is over an hour away by car. Joe needs medical attention _now_. They can get started on him right in the chopper and he'll be at the hospital in less than twenty minutes."

Frank closed his eyes in anguish. He had just gotten his brother back and now he had to let him go again.

"Frank, we have no choice. If we don't do it this way Joe could -"

"No! He didn't fight this hard to die now!" Frank said fiercely and then resumed his whispered, one-way conversation with his brother.

Within minutes, Fenton saw a police blockade up ahead and was able to make out the chopper sitting in the road just beyond it. Pulling up to the police cars, he stopped the car and scrambled out, waving at the EMT's who were standing next to a stretcher. They ran forward as Fenton opened the rear door of the car.

One of the EMT's reached in to take Joe out of the car, when Frank gripped his brother tightly. Fenton ran to the other side of the car and climbed into the seat beside his sons and began speaking to Frank.

"Please, Frank, let him go. I know it's hard, but you have to let them take Joe now."

Frank looked at his father with haunted eyes, the severity of the situation hitting him full force. "What if I let him go and I never see him alive again?"

Fenton swallowed hard knowing Frank could very well be right.

"If you don't let him go now, he'll die for sure. Please, Frank, let him go," Fenton pleaded with his oldest son.

Frank squeezed his eyes shut, as if in prayer. "We'll be there in an hour, Joe, so hang on…okay?" Frank whispered. He nodded to the EMT's who quickly removed Joe from the car and transported him to the waiting helicopter.

Stepping out of the car, Frank and Fenton watched as the helicopter became airborne and disappeared into the dark night sky, with Joe barely clinging to life inside. Frank turned to his father. Unable to keep his emotions buried any longer, he let the tears fall.

Holding his oldest son tightly as he cried, Fenton prayed Joe would still be alive by the time they reached the hospital.


	18. Chapter 18

TraSan, Polaris, Helen, Alicia, Calathiel, MissMe113, pally, josie, No1butjoe, Miss Fenway, amblewat – thank you so much for your great reviews!! Now hopefully sometime in the next few chapters you'll stop threatening me with bodily harm!! :p

And Alicia, I happen to know YOUR electric razor is in the hands of the prosecutor right now; but I still have mine… BZZT! BZZT!! ;-)

Many thanks to all who are reading! :-)

**Vanished**

**Chapter 18**

Frank couldn't recall the last time he had cried like that, so hard he couldn't stop even if he wanted to. Wiping his red, swollen eyes he looked at his father. "Sorry," he mumbled, embarrassed.

"For what?" Fenton asked. "Because you love your brother so much you couldn't stand to see him like that? Frank, don't ever apologize for expressing your feelings."

Frank nodded sadly, then turned and opened the passenger side door and started to get in the car. Noticing a large, manila envelope on the seat, he froze. With trembling hands he picked it up and turned to his father. He offered the envelope to Fenton, knowing without even looking inside it contained the pictures Rashman and Malick had taken of Joe while they tortured him. Frank felt sick to his stomach at the weight and bulk of the envelope. He couldn't even begin to imagine how many pictures it contained. Numbly, he got into the car, leaned his head back and closed his eyes.

'_I'm so sorry, Joe. So sorry.'_

oooOOOooo

Sitting in the waiting area of the emergency room, Fenton Hardy glanced at his older son. Frank was staring straight ahead, the expression on his face emotionless. Once they'd gotten in the car, he hadn't said another word. They had arrived at the hospital over an hour later only to be told Joe was in surgery and someone would eventually be out to update them on his condition. That was almost two hours ago and they were still waiting for some word on Joe.

"Frank, I'm going to get some coffee. Do you want anything?" Fenton asked.

"No," he said flatly.

"Okay. I'll be right back." Fenton patted Frank's shoulder and trudged out into the hall. He didn't really need the coffee but he couldn't stand sitting there, waiting, any longer.

He walked to the coffee machine at the end of the hall. As he was searching his pockets for the correct change, his cell phone rang. Pulling it out, he checked the number and his heart tightened. It was Laura, whom he hadn't spoken to since early that morning. Staring at their home number on the display, he let the phone ring. Guilt washed over him as he let the voice mail pick up the call. He knew Laura must be out of her mind with worry but he had no idea what to tell her. He honestly didn't know if Joe would make it but he didn't have the heart to tell his wife. Slowly, he walked back to the waiting area, forgetting all about the coffee.

Sitting down next to Frank once again, he leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. Visions of his two sons played themselves out across his mind. From the day Joe was born up until the last time he'd seen Joe smiling three nights earlier. He felt his eyes start to burn and didn't know how much longer he could hold it together when he heard his name.

"Mr. Hardy?"

Fenton's eyes snapped open and he saw a young woman not much older than Frank standing in front of him.

"Yes," he acknowledged, standing up.

"I'm Dr. Sydney Greene." She extended her hand. "Senior trauma resident. Dr. Marston asked me to come down and speak with you."

"Thank you," Fenton replied recognizing the name of the doctor he had been told was performing the surgery on Joe. "Is he out of surgery now?" he asked hopefully.

"I'm afraid not," Dr. Greene replied, motioning for him to sit down again. She pulled up a chair and sat down facing Fenton and Frank. She remained quiet for a moment, trying to find the words to compassionately convey the seriousness of Joe's condition.

"Your son has several traumatic injuries," she began. "He has several broken ribs. His right lung is punctured and his left lung had collapsed completely by the time he arrived here. He has second-degree burns over sixty-five percent of his left arm. He was bleeding internally, due to a ruptured spleen, which had to be removed." She stopped and waited for Fenton to try and process all the information. She looked at the young man seated next to him and her heart went out to Frank. Despite the difference in their coloring, she could tell this was Joe's brother and at that moment, he appeared to be on the verge of collapse.

"Is that all?" Fenton asked in a strained voice, knowing it wasn't, as she had yet to mention the gash on his foot.

"I'm afraid not. He has a deep knife wound on his right foot but given the extent and severity of his other injuries, Dr. Marston hasn't been able to treat that as yet so I can't tell you much about it. Also, we initially thought he had a broken jaw but the x-rays don't show any fractures. It's probably just badly bruised. And he is suffering from dehydration, due to lack of water, the burns and hypothermia."

Fenton nodded, unable to speak. He knew Joe's injuries were bad but he was completely unprepared for this.

"Also, he has two marks on his right arm that would indicate he was bitten or stung by something. Do you have any idea what could have caused them? Was he able to speak to you at all? Perhaps tell you what might have happened?"

"No," Fenton choked out, unable to believe the nightmare was still continuing. "He was only conscious for a moment and really wasn't able to speak."

"Oh." Dr. Greene frowned. "That presents a problem. Based on where you found him, he could have been bitten by any number of insects or small animals, some of which can be deadly if the victim isn't treated immediately. We've ruled out snakebite, but that still leaves way too many possibilities. Unfortunately, we can't make a guess as to what the marks are from. If we were to guess wrong the treatment itself could kill him."

'_This can't be happening,'_ Frank thought, dully. _'We finally found him, got him to a hospital and they still can't help him? Please, God-'_ Frank suddenly gasped out loud.

"Dad! The pictures!!"

Fenton locked eyes with Frank for one brief moment before he bolted from the waiting room. Frank explained to Dr. Greene about the pictures, and although she was disgusted at the thought of them, she agreed they would be helpful in determining what the marks were from.

Several minutes later Fenton returned, slightly out of breath, clutching the envelope. He opened it and started to reach in, stopping abruptly.

"You know all those pictures could be helpful to us in treating Joe's injuries," Dr. Greene said gently, her hand outstretched, understanding how devastating it would be for Joe's family to have to see them.

"Thank you," Fenton said, fighting back tears, as he handed her the envelope, relieved he wouldn't have to face the horrible images just yet. "We'll need them back – for evidence."

"I'll return them to you personally," she said. "He'll be in surgery for several more hours, at least."

"But he'll be okay, right?" Frank finally spoke.

Sydney Greene found herself unable to look Frank in the eye.

"I understand you are from out of town?" she asked, focusing on Fenton. The fact that she did not respond to Frank's question spoke volumes.

"Yes," Fenton replied.

"Dr. Marston suggested calling your family and having them fly out here as soon as possible." Her words were vague, but their meaning was crystal clear.

"You don't think he's going to make it, do you?" Frank asked, fighting to hold back tears.

"We just think it would be best if your family were together right now," she replied, finding she had to fight to keep her own emotions under control. "I'll be back with an update for you a little later," she said standing up. "We're doing everything we can, Mr. Hardy." She put a hand on Fenton's shoulder. "But it really would be best if you called your wife."

Sydney Greene turned and left the waiting area just as the tears started to fall.


	19. Chapter 19

Calathiel: Would I kill Joe? Hmmm… he's my favorite brother by far (my favorite fictional character, hands down!). How's that for an answer? LOL!

Pally: Interesting question! That could be fun if everyone except Joe remembered what had happened to him!

Alicia: Glad you like Sydney. Actually I get a lot of pleasure out of being mean to Joe; readers being freaked out is just a nice side bonus! :P

Josie: I like your style. "Fix Joe. Now." LOL! Short and to the point! Got any of that _Boosting_ glue left over from putting Frank back together?? He and Joe share some of the same DNA so maybe it'll work on Joe, too! :p

MissMe113: Give me your address and I'll send you a pair of sunglasses! LOL! With all the owies Rashman gave Joe, I had to make his injuries realistic, right?? ;-)

Miss Fenway: LOL! I think Joe met Larry in one of the Casefiles! Or at least a distant relative!

Polaris: You're right. Sydney doesn't know Joe, so we can still hope. ;-)

TraSan: Yes, I'm sure Fenton would have rather made YOUR phone call than the one he's going to have to make! In fact I think he might be making that call right now…

Mischief: LOL! I don't think I've ever received as many death threats as I have for this story. In fact I don't think I received ANY death threats prior to this story! :o And I'm fond of living so take that for what it's worth. ;-)

No1butjoe: Sorry about the heart attack! LOL! Here's the next chapter to help make it all better. ;-)

Helen: I'm so sorry I made you cry. Can I buy you a box of tissues to make up for it? LOL! So glad you enjoyed the chapter (though I'm not sure 'enjoyed' is the right word! LOL!). Your hope for Frank may come about sooner than you think. ;-)

Thank you ALL for the wonderful reviews! I can't tell you how much they mean to me. And many thanks to all who continue to read.

**Vanished**

**Chapter 19**

Frank sat in the waiting room, his head resting against the wall, eyes closed. As exhausted as he was, he couldn't possibly sleep. Instead he'd sat and listened as his father made all the necessary arrangements for Laura, Vanessa and Callie to join them in Chicago as soon as possible, booking their flight and reserving a suite at a nearby hotel. Fenton was now speaking with Laura, having told her rather vaguely what had happened to Joe, and making sure she had all the necessary flight information. Frank could tell his father was now trying to reassure Laura without giving her false hope.

"I know, honey, but he's strong. We have to think positive. We have to believe he'll be okay."

There was a pause and then he heard his father sigh.

"I'm not a doctor, sweetheart, I can't answer that."

Another pause.

"Second degree burns."

Silence again.

"No, sixty-five percent of his arm."

Frank could hear the tension in his father's voice.

"I don't _know_ exactly how it happened, Laura. Joe was…it was difficult for him to talk when we found him."

Frank could tell his father was getting frustrated, not wanting to lie yet not wanting to tell her everything.

"I will." Pause. "I love you, too." Pause. "Okay. Bye."

Frank heard his father shift in his seat and mumble under his breath.

"She wanted details?" Frank asked, not bothering to open his eyes.

"Of course." Fenton sighed again. "She said to tell you she loves you."

Frank smiled slightly, almost able to hear his mother's voice. "How'd she take it?"

"Better than we did, I think."

'_She didn't see him chained to that fence.'_ Frank shuddered, trying to block the horrible images of his brother that suddenly appeared out of nowhere. Despite his best efforts to stay awake, Frank found himself drifting off into a restless sleep.

oooOOOooo

"Fenton?"

Frank's eyes snapped open as he recognized the voice of Carlos Sanchez, who had just entered the waiting room with George DiSantos. Checking his watch, Frank was surprised to find he had actually slept for several hours.

"Did you find them?" Fenton asked, quickly getting to his feet.

"Yes," the dark haired detective replied. "Your directions were perfect. They're down in the E.R. being treated then we'll take them downtown and book them."

"They're here? In _this_ hospital?!" Frank asked, incredulous and angry that the hospital that was desperately trying to save Joe's life was also treating the men who had almost killed him.

"Don't worry. They're under armed guard. The only place they'll be going is the county jail."

"Do you think they'll get bail?" Frank asked, apprehensively.

"I doubt it," Carlos reassured them.

"What have you charged them with?" Fenton inquired.

"Kidnapping, assault and battery and attempted murder so far. I'm sure Joe didn't go with them willingly so once we talk to him and find out what happened at the airport, we can probably add a few weapons offenses to the list."

Frank shivered, hoping they wouldn't have to upgrade the last charge to murder.

"We brought your rental back. It's right out front," George said, offering a set of keys.

"Thank you." Fenton dug into his pocket and retrieved a set of keys, handing them to Sanchez. "I'm sorry we 'tampered' with the evidence, but we had no choice. Joe would have died if we had taken the time to get him back to our car," he apologized for having taken Rashman's car.

"I don't think it will be a big problem," Carlos reassured him. "Did you find the pictures, by any chance?"

Frank saw his father hesitate just a second. "Yes, but the doctors have them right now."

Carlos looked at him, puzzled. "The doctors?"

"They found a couple of marks on Joe's arm. They think he was stung or bitten by something but, other than ruling out snakebites, they have no idea what. It's imperative that they know exactly what he was bitten by in order to treat him without doing any more damage. We told them about the pictures and the doctor asked if they could see all of them to help them determine the extent of Joe's injuries."

Carlos smiled bitterly. "I can't wait to tell Rashman he ended up helping Joe by taking those pictures."

"Fenton, is there anything you need? Anything I can do for you?" George offered.

Fenton looked at his watch, a frown creasing his forehead.

"Laura and the girls will be arriving in about an hour. I really don't want to leave the hospital without knowing what's happening with Joe. I booked a suite at the Marriott right down the street," Fenton mused, thinking out loud.

"I can pick them up. That's no problem," George said, eager to do something to help. "Do you want me to bring them straight here or take them to the hotel first?"

Fenton smiled at his friend, gratefully. "Could you stop by the hotel and let them get checked in then bring them here?"

"Of course. We'll call you as soon as I pick them up and again right before we leave the hotel."

"Thanks, George." Fenton wrote down the flight and hotel information.

"I'll keep you posted on Rashman and Malick," Carlos told them, as he followed George out of the waiting room.

A while later, Dr. Greene returned, envelope in hand and a concerned look in her eyes. Taking a seat, she handed the pictures to Fenton.

"They were helpful," she began, still distressed at what the photographs had revealed. "But we may have come across another problem."

'_Now what?!'_ Frank thought, becoming angry at the prospect of more bad news.

"Thanks to the pictures we were able to determine that Joe was stung by scorpions. That's what the marks on his arm were from."

Frank stared at her, stunned. "_Scorpions_?!"

"What?!" Fenton cried out in disbelief. "Are you sure? They're not indigenous to this area, are they?"

"No, they're not. And unfortunately we can't tell by the picture whether the particular species that stung Joe is poisonous or not."

'_Joe has had enough to deal with this year. This isn't fair!'_ Frank felt his anger giving way to depression.

"They can't be poisonous," Fenton said with conviction.

"We really can't be sure, Mr. Hardy," Dr. Greene said, apparently thinking the distraught father was simply refusing to believe what she was telling him.

"What I mean is, the men who did this to my son were trying to get information out of him; get him to talk. He couldn't possibly tell them anything if he were dead, so why would they use scorpions that were so deadly they could kill him?"

"That would make sense," Frank agreed. "Aren't scorpion stings painful?" he asked looking at Dr. Greene.

"Excruciatingly painful," she replied. "Some components of scorpion venom serve no other purpose than to cause intense pain. If you feel certain the type of scorpions used on Joe wouldn't have been deadly, we can simply watch him in case he develops a more severe reaction and then treat him accordingly. Normally, other than the pain, which usually subsides within twenty-four hours, most victims do not show any other symptoms and recover completely.

"However, given the extent and severity of Joe's other injuries, his immune system is going to be compromised, so we'll have to keep a close eye on him to make sure he doesn't develop secondary effects."

"What would those be?" Fenton asked, warily.

"Severe envenomation would result in severe systemic involvement," Dr. Greene replied.

Fenton found himself chuckling slightly. "Dr. Greene, we've been up for almost forty-eight hours straight. Could you put that in laymen's terms?"

"I'm sorry," she said, somewhat sheepishly. "Things we'd be looking for would include fever, nausea, convulsions, a drastic change in heart rate and blood pressure, fluid in the lungs or swelling of the lungs, or coma."

"Isn't there some kind of antivenin you could give him, just to be sure?" Frank asked worriedly.

"There is an antivenin, but we don't stock it here. It's usually only found in hospitals where scorpions are native to the area. The medical community is also divided on just how effective it is. It would have to be administered intravenously, in large doses, for maximum effect. Most physicians advocate keeping a close eye on the victim and treating the symptoms themselves rather than using an antivenin, if possible.

"Also the antivenin presents it's own problems. Victims can develop what's known as serum sickness several weeks later as a result of the large doses of antivenin that are needed to be effective. Generally, if the victim survives the first forty-eight hours without severe cardio respiratory or neurological symptoms – heart or lung failure, seizures or coma - the prognosis is usually good."

Dr. Greene watched sympathetically as Frank leaned forward, resting his head in his hands. "With your permission, Mr. Hardy, we'd just like to keep a close eye on Joe for now. There's a good chance he won't need any further treatment for this."

Fenton absently rubbed Frank's back comfortingly. "If you think that's best," he replied tiredly.

"We do. Dr. Marston has cleaned and sutured the laceration on his foot. There was salt and dirt embedded in it, but other than that, it should heal fairly quickly. Although he may be walking with a limp for a while." She stopped, looking at Fenton who seemed to be nearing his limit for bad news. Glancing at Frank, still hunched over, she got the impression he if he received one more piece of bad news regarding his brother, he might have to be admitted himself.

"Would you prefer it if I wait until the rest of your family arrives before I bring you up to date on Joe's condition? He was being taken to the recovery room when I came down here. He'll be there for another hour or two and then we'll transfer him to the ICU. Right now he's holding his own," she said vaguely, hoping Fenton would reply affirmatively. She felt that giving Fenton a few hours to decompress and prepare himself for the arrival of his wife and family would be the best thing for him and hoped he realized that too. "Then you won't have to try and explain everything to your wife and I can answer any questions she might have."

Fenton thought a moment before responding. Stealing a glance at Frank, he realized his older son was on the verge of emotional collapse.

"I think that's a good idea," he responded, squeezing Frank's shoulder. "They should be here in an hour or so."

"I'll be in the resident's lounge. Just ask to have me paged and I'll come right down." She patted his knee, reassuringly. "He's not out of the woods yet, but if he's made it this far, he must be a fighter."

"That he is," Fenton smiled, wanly. "Thank you, Dr. Greene."

She nodded and left the waiting area.

Fenton looked down and focused his attention on Frank. Seeing Frank so distraught, he almost wished his sons weren't quite so close. Would it be easier for Frank to accept everything if they weren't? He nudged Frank gently, who finally raised his head and looked at his father.

Feeling totally helpless, Frank leaned back and rested his head on his father's shoulder, taking comfort in the strong arm wrapped tightly around him.

As the sounds of the hospital greeting a new day echoed around them, father and son sat, waiting and praying, together.


	20. Chapter 20

Lots of "Thank you's" to No1butjoe, pally, Polaris, Helen, MissMe113, Calathiel, TraSan, Miss Fenway and josie for the awesome reviews! :-)

And thanks to those who commented on the medical 'realism' in the last chapter. One of my biggest pet peeves in fanfic is people who write totally unrealistic stories because they don't want to be bothered doing a little research to get the facts straight. I hate doing research myself but what I hate even more is people who make stuff up simply because they are too lazy to research. It usually ruins what could have been a good story. So yeah, I researched scorpions out the wazoo. LOL! Any questions you need answered on scorpions, I'm your girl! :p

I also worked in the medical field for over ten years before I quit to pursue a career in fitness so I have a really good working knowledge when it comes to things medical. In my stories you will never find a character on death's door one day and miraculously recovered the next, running around and investigating with nothing more than a band-aid. -- Jumps off soapbox – ;-)

**Vanished**

**Chapter 20**

Callie, Vanessa and Laura sat in the lounge area of the airport, waiting for George DiSantos. As fate would have it, their flight had come in early and he wasn't there yet. Holding tightly to Vanessa's hand, Callie stole frequent glances at the younger girl, concerned at the look on her face. Hopelessness. Despair. Grief. Almost as if she had already given up. Leaning forward slightly, Callie briefly looked at Laura, sitting on the other side of Vanessa, also holding her hand. She didn't look much better. Watching the two, she heard Frank's voice in her head, replaying their phone conversation of just a few minutes earlier.

"_Take care of Mom and Van." _

"_I will." _

"_Thanks, Babe." _She had clearly heard the anguish in his voice.

"_He's a fighter, Frank." _She had tried to reassure him.

"_I don't know how much fight he has left." _

Callie swallowed hard; she could tell Frank had been on the verge of tears and knew he was afraid Joe wouldn't make it. Recalling the information Fenton Hardy had relayed during his middle of the night phone call, she was scared Frank could be right. As bad as the news of Joe's injuries had been, Callie knew it wasn't even close to the full truth.

Over the years she had been with Frank, she had noticed how Fenton would try to protect his wife from "too much information" when one of their sons had been injured. A sudden moment of clarity brought a chill and the knowledge that she, Laura and Vanessa probably never know the full extent of what had happened to Joe in the past forty-eight hours. And that thought made her fear for his very survival. Looking around, Callie noticed George walking towards them.

"Here he comes." She stood up, as Laura and Vanessa did the same.

Stopping in front of the three women, George gave Laura a warm hug.

"Thank you so much, George, for everything," she said.

"I wish I could have done more," he replied, sounding disappointed.

"Hello." He greeted Callie with a kiss on the cheek.

Turning his gaze on Vanessa, his heart broke.

"I've known Joe since he was a little boy, honey. He never gives up," George smiled at her reassuringly.

"Thank you," Vanessa replied, her voice barely a whisper, as she wiped away a tear.

As they made their way to baggage claim and retrieved their luggage George explained that Fenton had asked him to take them to the hotel first, help them get checked in and settled in their suite, and then bring them to the hospital. Understandably, they were anxious to reach their final destination. Throughout the short journey, Laura had attempted to pry some information out of George about Joe's condition, to no avail. He insisted he knew even less than they did.

Just over an hour later, the four of them made their way through the front doors of the hospital. Taking the elevator to the ICU floor, they hurried to the waiting area where they found Frank catnapping uncomfortably on a tiny sofa and Fenton standing in front of a window staring out, lost in thought.

Hearing them enter, Fenton turned as his wife rushed into his arms. Callie made her way to the small couch and crouched down next to it. Reaching out, she gently brushed Frank's hair back and kissed him on the cheek. Opening his eyes, he stared at his wife, feeling an odd sense of relief. Wordlessly, Frank stood and pulled her into him tightly, burying his face in her hair.

During his short nap he'd had bizarre dreams of Joe lying in a coffin, dead eyes staring at him, accusing, demanding to know why he hadn't come sooner. Holding her tightly, Frank was overwhelmed with the thought that they might be bringing Joe home in a casket. As always, Callie seemed to know just what he was thinking.

"He'll be alright," she whispered, returning the tight embrace. "He'll be fine, you'll see."

It suddenly dawned on Frank that whenever Joe was in trouble, whenever he was hurt or in a tight spot, Callie was his biggest champion, his biggest cheerleader. While everyone else worried about Joe, Callie was convinced he would come out of the situation just fine. He wondered if Joe knew that. He wondered if Joe would live long enough to find out.

Frank pulled back very slowly, wanting to look into Callie's eyes, wanting to see the conviction behind her words, yet afraid this time it wouldn't be there. However, she did not let him down, her deep brown eyes telling him everything would turn out fine, if only he believed.

Glancing up, Frank finally noticed Vanessa, standing alone, looking as if she had already lost her best friend. Catching her eye, Frank kept one arm around Callie and beckoned for Vanessa to join them with the other. She approached, slowly at first, but then rushed into Frank's waiting embrace, burying her face in his chest.

Vanessa felt Callie put a comforting arm around her waist, and realized that rather than the fear that normally welled up inside her when she was touched by anyone other than Joe, she felt loved and protected. Losing herself in the feeling, she allowed them to comfort her and didn't move for several minutes. Finally, reluctantly, she pulled away, but just enough to look Frank in the eyes.

"Have you seen him yet?" she asked, almost fearfully.

"Not since we got him to the MedEvac chopper. As far as I know he's still in the recovery room," Frank answered, praying she wouldn't ask how Joe was when they had first found him.

Sensing it was something Frank didn't want to discuss and something she knew instinctively she wouldn't want to hear, Vanessa did not press the issue. They all turned as Fenton and Laura approached.

"I asked them to page Dr. Greene. She should be here shortly," Fenton said, then explained to his wife, Callie and Vanessa who she was.

The five of them took seats and waited for the resident to arrive, George having departed inconspicuously after making Fenton promise to call him with an update on Joe or if they should need anything at all. A few moments later, Dr. Greene appeared, holding a folder in her hands. Fenton introduce her to Laura, Callie and Vanessa as she seated herself opposite the concerned family.

"First, Joe was just moved into the ICU so you'll be able to see him shortly." She smiled, at the audible sighs of relief. "I want to warn you though, he's attached to quite a few machines and he's heavily medicated. Dr. Marston felt it was best to keep him almost in a drug-induced coma, in order to speed the initial healing. His condition is still…precarious. As long as he is unconscious, he won't feel any pain so he won't be trying to move around in an effort to relieve it."

"How long do you intend to keep him like that?" Laura asked, both worried and relieved. Worried because she knew she wouldn't even begin to rest easy until she could actually talk to Joe herself and hear him respond, yet relieved that her child wouldn't be in any pain, at least for the immediate future.

"A few days at least. So don't worry if he doesn't respond to you. But don't let that stop you from talking to him. It's been proven that people who are comatose have heard conversations that have gone on around them." Dr. Greene paused and looked at the chart in her hand, before speaking again. "Before we get started, I want to warn you that Joe's injuries are extensive and severe. Please stop me at any time if you have a question."

Vanessa, seated between Frank and Callie held tightly to their hands, knowing how difficult it was going to be for her to hear what the doctor had to say. She felt Frank give her hand a reassuring squeeze and turned slightly, giving him a tiny smile of gratitude.

Taking a deep breath, Dr. Greene began. "I'm sure you all know Joe had numerous injuries, several of them quite severe. Obviously Dr. Marston wanted to treat the life-threatening injuries first."

'_Oh, God, he really could have died!'_ Vanessa thought, terrified. _'I almost lost him!'_

"He had a punctured lung and the other had collapsed completely. Both were successfully repaired. He also had extensive internal bleeding. Dr. Marston traced the cause back to a ruptured spleen which was removed." Sydney Greene stopped as she heard an audible gasp. Looking up, she saw Laura Hardy pale and trembling.

"That's actually quite a common procedure, Mrs. Hardy," she tried to reassure the distressed mother. "Joe may have to take a few precautions, but most people can live a perfectly normal life without a spleen."

"What kind of precautions?" Frank asked, worried. Joe was never one to worry about his own health or safety, thinking he could easily bounce back from anything.

"Joe could be more susceptible to certain types of infections. For example, yearly vaccinations against influenza – flu shots - are recommended. The spleen can be considered a part of the immune system. Without it the immune system, and its ability to fight off bacteria, germs - that sort of thing - can be compromised." Hearing no other questions, Sydney checked the folder in her hand and continued.

"Joe has suffered second degree burns over sixty-five percent of his left arm, apparently from being exposed directly to an open flame," she said trying not to be too vague but not wanting to reveal what she had seen in the awful pictures Fenton Hardy had provided. Sydney had a feeling he did not want his wife to know the intimate details of how their son had come to suffer such horrible injuries and she was happy to keep the worst of the information to herself.

"Unfortunately second-degree burns are the most painful. They often produce blisters that, when broken, expose the nerve endings to air. Joe does have some deeper second-degree burns involving the deeper layers of the skin. A few of the areas will probably result in some scarring. With treatment, the deepest second-degree burns would usually heal in six weeks or less. In Joe's case these burns are over a somewhat larger area so it may take a little longer for them to heal completely. If it turns out the scarring is extensive, skin grafts can be considered."

Frank heard a small whimper from Vanessa and immediately dropped her hand, placing an arm around her shoulders and holding her tightly. A quick glance told him Callie was now holding Vanessa's other hand in both of hers.

"What kind of treatment is involved for those types of burns?" Fenton asked hoarsely.

"Treatment should cover three phases: resuscitation, operative and rehabilitation. During the first phase, the burns are debrided – or cleaned - and antimicrobial cream is applied to prevent infection." She stopped and looked at Fenton questioningly, wondering how much information he wanted his wife to hear. He seemed to struggle with the decision but finally nodded almost imperceptibly.

"This first step was already done in the O.R. We found traces of salt embedded into some of the burns and it's imperative that we make sure all of it has been removed to avoid complications so we'll be watching Joe closely in case it needs to be repeated."

"Salt?!" Laura repeated in a hoarse whisper, her eyes wide in disbelief. Fenton pulled his wife close and gently kissed the top of her head. He would have preferred she didn't know about that horrible part of Joe's ordeal, but he knew she would have questioned a second debriding, should it be necessary, until she got the truth.

Frank stole another glance at Vanessa and saw a few tears running down her cheeks. He admired her restraint as he was finding it difficult to hold back his own tears and he already knew the extent of what Joe had suffered through. He refocused on Sydney as she began to speak again.

"Fluid replacement is a very pressing need during this phase. Without adequate fluid intake, there is an increased risk of shock. Joe has suffered a large amount of fluid loss through the burn itself and the fact that he is dehydrated, since he's had nothing to drink for over twenty-four hours. We'll be giving Joe fluids in large quantities via IV's for the next two days." Sydney stopped for a moment as she saw the devastated looks on the faces of Joe's family.

"The next two phases of treatment won't be happening for a while yet, so why don't we save that discussion for a later time." She once again looked to Fenton for approval, letting him decide just how much his family could take in one sitting.

Reluctantly, Fenton nodded for her to continue, knowing at least one of the sites where Joe had been stung would be clearly visible when they saw him.

Watching the exchange, Laura tried to prepare herself for whatever was coming, yet at the same time fearing it was impossible.

"We found two marks on Joe's right arm. They led us to believe he was bitten or stung by something which turned out to be scorpions."

Laura closed her eyes and leaned heavily against her husband. Surprisingly, Vanessa took the news a little better venturing forth with a question.

"Aren't scorpions poisonous?" she asked, fear in her voice.

"Actually very few species of scorpions are poisonous. It's just incredibly painful when they sting. Based on the information that has been uncovered, we believe the species that Joe was stung by were not deadly. We are just going to keep a very close eye on him and monitor any changes that might be related to the venom. Most people who are stung by scorpions recover with no lasting effects at all," Sydney reassured them, grateful to be able to give them one small piece of good news and glad she was nearing the end of Joe's litany of injuries. Referring to the chart once again, she read out loud

"Joe has several broken ribs, which have been taped. Again, they are painful, but they should heal completely. He also suffered a knife wound on the top of his right foot, which was cleaned and sutured. He may be limping for a while but we also expect that to heal nicely.

"He'll have some bruising on his throat and wrists from the restraints," she said vaguely referring to the leather straps and, out of the corner of her eye, she saw Fenton smile gratefully at her tact. "We did take an x-ray of his jaw as the bruising there indicated a possible fracture, but luckily that wasn't the case." Closing the chart, she looked up.

"I realize that was quite a bit of information to take in all at once, so if you think of any questions, please have me paged. I'll take you to the ICU now so you can see Joe, but we do ask that only two of you be in the room with him at any given time," she said standing up.

"And I just want to remind you, it'll be a bit of a shock when you first see him. He's on a heart monitor and a ventilator to help him breathe easier. We'll keep him on the ventilator until Dr. Marston starts to reduce the medication. That's just so he doesn't have to work so hard to breathe on his own. He is also on numerous I.V.'s and receiving blood to replace what was lost. And his left arm is quite heavily bandaged from just below his shoulder to his wrist." She looked at the family, huddling together for support. "Ready?"

"Dr. Greene, do you expect Joe to make a full recovery?" Laura asked, secretly wondering how it was possible given everything she had just heard, and knowing her husband had kept the worst of it from her.

Sydney thought for a moment before answering. "Joe's condition is still very critical. Once he gets past the next forty-eight hours we'll be in a much better position to answer that question," she replied, purposely avoiding the words '_if he lives through the next forty-eight hours_'. Somehow, the devastated looks on the faces of Joe's family told her they knew that was not a forgone conclusion without her having to say it out loud.

Slowly the little group made their way down the hall, each hoping they would have one more chance to tell Joe how much they loved him…and hear him respond in kind.


	21. Chapter 21

Thank you _so much_ for the kind reviews! :-) And for hanging in there. This story has 32 chapters total so I promise, there is plenty of comfort coming up to go along with the hurt. ;-)

**Vanished**

**Chapter 21**

Laura Hardy slowly pushed the door open and stepped inside leaning heavily against her husband. She had listened to everything Dr. Greene had said and tried to imagine what her youngest son would look like, tried to prepare herself for the sight of Joe lying in a hospital bed once again. The second she saw him she knew nothing could have adequately prepared her. Feeling light headed, she held tightly to Fenton, taking slow deep breaths until the feeling passed.

Together, they walked to Joe's bedside and took in the sight of a parent's worst nightmare. Laura reached out with a shaking hand and gently touched Joe's hair, the only part of him that didn't appear to be bruised or covered in bandages. She heard the steady, comforting beep-beep-beep of the heart monitor and the louder, slower swish of the ventilator that ensured Joe was getting plenty of oxygen without having to work for it.

Her eyes were drawn to Joe's left arm, seemingly lost in bandages and held aloft by some kind of pulley system to help keep the swelling to a minimum. They hadn't bothered with a hospital gown and Laura could see the tape supporting his broken ribs peeking out from under the sheet and a red, inflamed area on his right shoulder that she assumed had been made by a scorpion. Seeing the large purple bruises that encircled his neck and wrist, she realized she had absolutely no desire to know what had caused them. Her gaze traveled down to the bottom of the bed where, although the sheet covered it, she could tell his right foot was elevated, propped up on a pillow or two.

Silently, tears fell from her blue eyes that were so much like Joe's. Staring at her battered child she leaned down and kissed his cheek.

"My baby," was all she could manage to choke out and she knew, while she had long thought of Frank as a grown man, Joe would always be her little boy.

…

The minutes passed as Fenton Hardy watched his wife watching their son. He could see the utter devastation on her face, and for the first time in his life, he regretted encouraging his sons to follow in his footsteps.

"I'm sorry, Laura," he whispered, wanting to fall apart himself yet knowing that was not an option.

"It's not your fault," his wife said, turning understanding blue eyes on him. She stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek, just as she had done with Joe. "I'd like a few minutes alone with him before Vanessa comes in," she requested, offering no further explanation.

Nodding, Fenton hugged her and kissed the top of her head. He reached down, wanting to touch his son in a gesture of comfort and stopped. His resolve to be strong quickly slipped as he found himself afraid to touch his own child, fearing it would only cause Joe more pain. Abruptly, he turned and walked out, leaving mother and son alone.

oooOOOooo

Vanessa stood with one hand on the door. Taking a deep breath, she squared her shoulders and pushed it open, walking into the room. As the door closed behind her, she got her first look at her fiancé and found she had to lean against the door for support.

Covering her mouth with one hand she choked back a sob, wanting to look away yet unable to do so. It took almost a full minute before she felt steady enough to take the few steps that would get her to Joe's side. Slowly, deliberately she crossed the room and stood by the bed, gazing down at him. Taking in the bandages, machines, wires, tubes, I.V.'s, bags of clear liquid and blood each doing their part to keep Joe alive, it struck her with terrifying force that she could still lose him.

Sitting in the chair next to the bed, she very gently closed her hand over his and reached out, stroking his cheek. "Oh, Baby, what did they do to you?" Her voice quivered.

Suddenly all the fear, all the anguish turned to red-hot anger at the men who thought they could do this to Joe and get away with it. A new, unfamiliar emotion swept through her and while she couldn't quite figure out what it was, she wondered if this was what it felt like to want to kill the person who had deliberately hurt the one you loved.

Leaning down, Vanessa softly kissed Joe on the cheek. "Don't worry, Baby. Your Dad and Frank caught them. They can't hurt you anymore."

Gently running her fingers through his hair, the way she knew Joe loved, Vanessa continued whispering to him. "If you come back to me, I promise I'll be right here with you every step of the way. We'll get you through this together."

Remembering what Dr. Greene had said, Vanessa sat with Joe for a very long time, talking to him, reminding him of everything he had to live for, hoping that somehow he would hear it and come back to her.

oooOOOooo

Out in the hall, Callie sat on the small couch next to Frank. She had wrapped her arms around him as he had rested his head on her shoulder, content to let her comfort him. She rubbed his back softly as she glanced at Fenton Hardy, who was seated directly across from them, eyes closed, holding on to his wife tightly. Looking back at Frank, Callie realized he and his father were mirror images of each other – pale and drawn with dark circles under their eyes. They both looked utterly exhausted.

She knew Frank wouldn't truly rest until he knew Joe would be all right, but she also knew he was on the edge of physical and emotional collapse. Taking a chance, she made a suggestion that she knew he would hate.

"After you see Joe, maybe you and your Dad should go back to the hotel and sleep for a few hours."

"No," Frank replied, not even bothering to lift his head.

"Yes," Laura Hardy said, reinforcing Callie's suggestion.

Frank did open his eyes to look at his mother, although still kept his head comfortably on his wife's shoulder.

"Mom…"

"Don't '_Mom_' me," Laura said sternly. "You and your father did exactly what you set out to do. You found Joe and got him the help he needed. There is absolutely nothing more you can do here today – except maybe collapse and take up a few more beds." She glanced at her husband, daring him to defy her. Wisely, he didn't say a word.

Laura sat up a little straighter before continuing, her eyes flicking between her husband and oldest son. "After you see Joe," she began, letting her gaze rest on Frank for a few seconds, "Callie is going to drive you both to the hotel, where you are going to have something to eat and then get some sleep. Hours of sleep. She'll go back and pick you up at…" Laura glanced at her watch "…five." She then looked at Callie, who nodded her agreement. "And don't even think of coming back one second earlier," Laura admonished them, winking at Callie. "I'll tell hospital security to throw you out if they see you here before five o'clock."

Fenton Hardy grinned at his son wryly. "I guess they told us."

"Guess so," Frank replied with a yawn.

He closed his eyes again and let Callie hold him close, while he waited for his turn to visit with Joe. On the one hand, he wanted Vanessa to hurry up and come out of the room so he could see Joe, talk to him. Yet on the other hand he wanted to avoid going into that room at all costs and having to face the evidence of what those animals had done to his younger brother. One overwhelming thought kept echoing in his brain and the intensity of it terrified him…

'_I should have killed them when I had the chance.'_

oooOOOooo

Frank sat, watching and listening, as the ventilator compressed itself, filling Joe's injured lungs with air then inflated, forcing the air out. He glared at the machine as the endless cycle mocked him, reminding him over and over again, with every loud _whoosh_ that it was keeping Joe alive. As much as he hated that machine right now, Frank couldn't bear the thought of having to stand by, helplessly, and watch his brother struggle to do something as natural as breathing.

Gingerly, he held Joe's limp right hand in both of his own, being careful not to dislodge the various tubes, wires and I.V.'s, all the while purposefully trying to avoid taking even one glance at Joe's left arm, swathed in bandages and held aloft by some foreign contraption.

Frank looked at his brother, pale and vulnerable, and silently begged him to heal. He hated the men who had done this to Joe yet found he hated himself more for not being able to prevent it; for breaking his promise; for not being there.

"Come on, little brother. You have to fight just a little bit longer, okay? Can you do that for me?" Frank felt his eyes welling up with tears as his voice broke. "Everyone thinks it's you who needs me, but we both know better, don't we? It's the other way around. Don't do it, Joe. Don't force me to go through the rest of my life without you, because I can't. I can't do it. I _won't_ do it."

Frank laid his head down on the rail of the bed, closed his eyes and began to bargain with God, promising anything and everything if He would just let his brother live.


	22. Chapter 22

Josie, Polaris, TraSan, Alicia, Helen, MissMe113, Miss Fenway, No1butjoe, pally and Calathiel – thank you so much for reviewing! :-)

Next chapter, Joe makes his 'reappearance'; I promise! :-)

**Vanished**

**Chapter 22**

Frank stared at his brother, somehow knowing he was unable to stop what was about to happen. It was as if some invisible force were holding him back, preventing him from reaching Joe.

_"Help me!" Joe cried out, pleading with Frank to save him. "Frank, __please__! Don't let them do this to me!"_

_Frank tried desperately to get to his brother who was tied to a post just a few yards away, but his feet were stuck. He couldn't move!_

_"Joe, I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!"_

_Suddenly flames erupted at Joe's feet. He pulled on the ropes, frantically trying to free himself, crying out as the flames licked at his legs._

_"Frank! Why won't you help me?! I trusted you! Frank! Please don't let me die!"_

_"NO!!" Frank yelled, watching helplessly as Joe disappeared, swallowed up by the fire, his agonizing screams of pain drowning out Frank's own heart breaking wails of grief._

"JOE!" Frank sat up, looking around anxiously for his brother.

Realizing it was a dream, Frank leaned back against the headboard, rubbing a hand across his face and found his cheeks were wet with tears. His heart was racing and he was breathing hard, but worst of all he could still hear Joe screaming as he was engulfed in flames.

Climbing out of bed, Frank found he was a little unsteady on his feet and wished he were one of those people who never remembered their dreams. Checking his watch he saw it was four thirty and headed for the bathroom. Callie would be arriving in thirty minutes to drive him and Fenton back to the hospital and Frank wanted to grab a quick shower before he left.

Fifteen minutes later, Frank walked down the hall to the tiny living room/dining room/ kitchen area of the suite his father had rented. As he stood surveying the room, he was once again left in awe at his father's ability to see to the smallest detail even under the most stressful conditions. When Fenton had made the hotel reservations he had been up for close to forty-eight hours straight and Joe was still in the operating room. At that point they weren't even sure Joe would make it out of the O.R. alive.

Yet Fenton thought to rent a suite – a small apartment with four bedrooms off the main living area – instead of separate hotel rooms. Foremost in his mind was the knowledge that Vanessa would never be able to close her eyes to sleep alone in a strange hotel room. The suite would allow her privacy when she needed it and the security of knowing those she loved were just outside the bedroom door. Fenton had not wanted his family to be separated by common hallways and locked doors when they would in fact need to be close to each other for comfort and support.

Frank walked into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator, expecting to find it empty. To his surprise, he saw it had been fully stocked with a wide variety of food and drinks. Retrieving an apple and a bottle of water, he took a seat at the table and waited for Callie to arrive. As he took a swig of the water, Sydney Greene's voice came out of nowhere to torment him.

_"He's dehydrated since he hasn't had anything to drink in over twenty-four hours."_

Frank replaced the cap on the small plastic bottle, no longer thirsty. Looking up he saw his father emerge from one of the bedrooms in the opposite hallway with a cell phone to his ear, looking only slightly refreshed.

"Yes, that is good news. Thanks, Carlos. Keep me posted. Bye."

Fenton sat down opposite his son and smiled. "Finally some good news. Given their employer and easy access to transportation out of the country via private jet, the judge refused to even consider bail for Rashman and Malick."

"Thank God," Frank exhaled loudly, secure in the knowledge that his brother was truly safe from these men for the foreseeable future. "There weren't any other calls were there?" he asked a bit hesitantly.

"No," his father reassured him. "Joe's condition hasn't changed. He's still holding his own."

"Good. Did you get any sleep?" Frank asked, realizing he would never even have heard his father moving around the suite. He had fallen into a deep sleep the moment his head hit the pillow and hadn't moved until he was rudely awakened by the nightmare about Joe.

"About three hours."

"That's all?"

"Yes," Fenton chuckled. "But don't tell your mother."

"You couldn't sleep any more than that?"

Fenton thought for a moment before answering. "I'm sure I could have but I wanted to get caught up on some things."

Leaning forward, Frank propped an elbow on the table and rested his chin in his hand as a silent invitation for his father to continue.

"I checked in with Sam at home. We kind of left him hanging when we took off without any warning, but he's got everything under control. The police brought an evidence collection team to the restroom where Joe hid the file and swept it for evidence. A long shot, I know, since it had been cleaned several times by then."

"Did they find anything?"

"Nothing in the restroom but they also interviewed several airport employees who were working at the time Joe was taken and struck pay dirt."

"Really?" Frank perked up considerably.

"There's a foreign currency exchange kiosk a little ways down from the restroom. The young woman who was working that night noticed Joe immediately when he was in the lounge area." Fenton stopped and smiled at the mesmerizing effect his youngest son could have on some women simply by walking past them. "She saw him go into the restroom and then saw Rashman go in right after him. She had a customer and when she looked up again she saw Rashman and Malick coming out of the restroom supporting Joe between them."

"So that blows their story about Joe getting drunk at the bar right out of the water!" Frank said excitedly.

"Exactly."

"But if she saw someone being dragged through the airport, unconscious, why didn't she try to help or call security?" Frank asked, getting angry.

"She did. She approached them and Rashman told her they were airport security working undercover. He gave her a story about Joe being a courier for a large drug cartel. He said when they cornered Joe in the restroom he tried to escape and they had to use 'necessary force' to subdue him."

"And she fell for it."

"Hook, line and sinker."

"Rashman sure thinks quick on his feet, huh?" Frank commented.

"Yes, but it'll come back to bite him. A few other people tried to get involved thinking Joe was in trouble and he gave them all the same story. But he told the real security guard a completely different story – obviously out of necessity. With all those witnesses and Rashman's conflicting stories it'll be easy for a jury to believe Joe's version of what happened in the restroom."

Hearing a noise at the door, Frank and Fenton looked up and saw Callie enter carrying a bag, which Frank could tell simply by inhaling, contained Chinese food. Before they could protest wasting time eating, Callie held up a hand.

"Laura's orders. I'm not allowed to let you leave this room until you eat." She placed the bag on the table and leaned down to give Frank a kiss on the cheek. Straightening up, she moved to the kitchen for plates and silverware.

"How's Joe?" Frank asked as he watched his wife move about the kitchen.

"Still the same. I sat with him while Vanessa and Laura went to get something to eat, but they stayed with him all afternoon," she replied. "They're still enforcing that 'only two people in the room at a time' rule so…" Her voice trailed off as she shrugged her shoulders.

"You mean you actually got Vanessa to leave for a little while?" Fenton asked, impressed.

"Believe me it was like pulling teeth." Callie placed a plate in front of him, another in front of Frank and one on the table for herself. She sat down and began pulling cartons out of the bag and passing them around. "I finally convinced her Joe would be really upset if he knew she wasn't eating just to sit and watch him laying in a hospital bed."

Leaning in, Frank kissed her on the cheek. "Thanks, Babe."

"For what?" she asked, puzzled.

"For taking care of us. All of us." He smiled at her, now realizing she was the one who had stocked the refrigerator while Laura and Vanessa were with Joe.

They quickly finished eating in silence and returned to the hospital to begin their evening vigil.

oooOOOooo

"Hey, bro. I'm back." Frank reached out, touching Joe's right hand lightly, desperately needing that physical connection. "Sorry I had to leave but Mom insisted that Dad and I go to the hotel and get some sleep. You know how she is when she gets in one of those moods. You don't even _think_ about arguing with her."

Frank's eyes were drawn to the bruises that completely encircled Joe's neck and noticed they were now turning a deep purple. The accompanying bruise on his wrist was a matching shade of the same color. Out of nowhere Frank heard Joe's voice, loud and clear.

_"Frank, please! Don't let them do this to me!"_

Frank tried to block it out, actually covering his ears with his hands, but Joe's voice refused to leave him alone.

_"Why won't you help me?! I trusted you, Frank! __Please__ don't let me die!"_

"I'm sorry, Joe," Frank whispered. "I'm sorry I wasn't there to stop them."

The steady, rhythmic whooshing of the ventilator caught his attention and Frank found that his totally irrational anger at the machine was stronger than ever. He hated the very presence of that machine as it reminded him Joe simply wasn't strong enough to breathe on his own. Somehow, Frank had become fixated on Joe breathing for himself, as if that one small accomplishment would guarantee a quick and complete recovery.

Hearing the door open, Frank turned and saw Vanessa enter the room. Standing up, he held his arms out and just as she had done earlier that day, Vanessa allowed herself to find comfort in his embrace. Resting her head on his shoulder, she looked at Joe, her heart breaking.

"Why, Frank?" she asked quietly. "Why did they do this to him?"

Frank stiffened. He knew his father had been vague in his phone calls, saying only that Joe had been kidnapped and injured without going into the ugly details.

Pulling away, Vanessa looked him in the eye. "I want to know, Frank. Why? Was it their sick idea of a good time? Or did they have a specific reason for it."

"What difference does it make, Van?" Frank answered with a question of his own. "It's done. Knowing why won't change it."

"I need to know, Frank," she said with quiet resolve. "If I'm going to be there for him while he recovers from this – and I AM going to be there – I have to know what to expect." She glanced at Joe again before looking back at Frank. "He had to be scared to death. I can't help him if I don't understand what he's going through."

Studying Vanessa, Frank saw the determination in her eyes. He knew Joe would want her to be protected from the horrible details of his ordeal, but she had a valid point. Joe was going to need a lot of support and she _would_ be the one closest to him while he recovered. Although he still felt she didn't need to know every single detail, Frank agreed that Vanessa would need to know more than she did right now to help Joe through the aftermath of all this.

Feeling both a sense of relief and dread Frank realized even he didn't know everything Joe had suffered through while he had been held captive. Relieved that he wouldn't have to lie to Vanessa by holding back the truth, Frank also dreaded the fact that all the things he did know probably didn't even begin to scratch the surface of what Joe had been forced to endure.

Sitting down in the chairs next to the bed, Frank faced Vanessa, grasping her hands tightly as he explained who Rashman and Malick were and why they had hurt Joe so badly. And when he was done, Frank held Vanessa in his arms while she cried.


	23. Chapter 23

Your patience has been rewarded - he's baaaaaaaaack! ;-)

Thank you so much to everyone who has taken time to leave a review. Your comments pick me up and make me smile. :-)

**Vanished**

**Chapter 23**

Several nights later Vanessa lay in bed staring out into the darkness, unable to sleep. The past few days had dragged on and on, leaving her emotionally drained. The routine had become depressingly monotonous as each day she and the Hardys would arrive at the hospital early in the morning and stay until the nurses prodded them to leave late at night. She was grateful that Frank, Laura and Fenton never asked her to leave Joe's side and allowed her to sit with him all day while they took turns visiting as the 'two visitor' limit was strictly enforced by the hospital staff.

The doctors and nurses assured them Joe was improving although Vanessa could see no change at all. Despite the fact that she held Joe's hand and talked to him all day long, that connection she longed for and so desperately needed was still missing. Vanessa knew that until she could look into Joe's eyes and see him looking back at her with recognition, until she could hear his voice responding to hers, she wouldn't be able to convince herself that Joe was really getting better.

Rolling onto her side, Vanessa pulled her long legs up, curling herself into a ball and gazed at the empty spot next to her. She reached out and touched the cold pillow.

"I miss you, Joe."

Closing her eyes, she tried to sleep, wanting to be refreshed for tomorrow. Right before they had left the hospital that evening, Dr. Marston had come in to check on Joe one more time before he went home. Checking Joe's vital signs and studying the notations that had been made on his chart throughout the day, he had proclaimed Joe strong enough to breathe on his own. The ventilator would be removed that evening and they would start to reduce the amount of medication he was on. By the time they arrived in the morning, Joe would be out of the ICU and in a private room. The limit on the number of visitors he had was much less restrictive and Vanessa was hopeful they might allow someone to stay the night with him, at least until his condition was more stable.

Before they all left the hospital, Dr. Marston had assured them Joe would regain consciousness at some point the next day. Vanessa prayed he was right, as she didn't know how she could get through one more day without hearing the voice she loved – and missed – so much.

oooOOOooo

It was the place halfway between consciousness and darkness. Muted voices, muted thoughts, muted pain. Voices. Male voices.

'_God, what more can they do to me? Why won't they just let me die? Please just let me die.'_ Joe vaguely wondered why his brother never came for him. _'He promised. I trusted him.'_

Disjointed memories made their way across Joe's semi-conscious mind.

'_Alcohol.'_ Joe shuddered, recalling the torment that finally broke him. _'Have I told them where I hid the envelope yet?' _

The jagged recollections continued as Joe realized he couldn't have told them or he would be dead. Rashman… '_I've been ordered to kill you_…' A gunshot.

'_How come I'm not dead?'_

A knife flashing towards him. The chain in mid-air. Dad. Frank.

'_Frank?!'_

Listening intently through the fog in his mind, Joe heard more voices. Soft and low.

'_Vanessa?!'_

Slowly it dawned on Joe that he was no longer upright and chained to a fence, but lying down on something soft. There was a pillow beneath his head. He wasn't cold or wet. He was still in pain but it was different now – dulled, somehow; not quite so intense. A soft hand gently grazed his forehead followed by a feather light kiss on his cheek. He moved his head slightly and moaned, trying to open his eyes.

"Joe?"

'_Vanessa!'_

"Joe, can you hear me?"

'_Yes! Yes, I can hear you!'_

Joe tried once more to open his eyes but his eyelids were heavy and they refused to cooperate.

"Wake up, bro."

'_Frank! You __did__ come for me!'_

"Come on, Joe, open your eyes."

'_I'm trying!'_ Joe thought, frantically. His eyes fluttered open for a split second and quickly shut again. He heard a flurry of movement and felt the sensation of people crowding around, hovering over him expectantly.

"It's time to wake up, sweetie."

"You can do it, son. Open your eyes."

'_Mom? Dad!'_

"Come on, Joe. Don't keep us waiting anymore."

'_Callie?!"_

With what felt like a monumental effort, Joe finally opened his eyes. Straining to focus, he saw Vanessa gazing down at him, her beautiful grey eyes brimming with tears.

"Welcome back," she said softly, very gently squeezing his right hand, which was clasped in her own.

Joe managed a weak smile for his fiancée. "Don't," he whispered, not wanting to see her cry. He winced at both the unfamiliar sound of his own scratchy, hoarse voice and a sore throat courtesy of the ventilator.

Instinctively, Joe tried to reach out with his left hand and wipe away the tears. The resulting intense pain caused him to cry out bringing on an immediate chorus of reprimands from his family.

"Please don't try and move around, sweetie," Joe heard his mother's voice pleading with him to remain still. "You're still pretty banged up."

Joe looked at his mother, worry and concern marring her pretty features. He nodded slightly in agreement and was rewarded with a smile.

Looking back at Vanessa again, he squeezed her hand. "Missed you…"

"I missed you, too," Vanessa replied, gently touching his cheek as she looked at their clasped hands.

Glancing at his father, who was standing next to Vanessa, Joe could see his eyes were moist. "Thanks, Dad," he said, wincing once more. "Can I have some water?"

"As soon as Dr. Marston says it's okay," Joe heard Callie reply. "He should be here in a few minutes." She pointing at the call button she had pressed as soon as Joe woke up.

Joe's gaze settled on his brother, who was standing next to Callie, staring at Joe with relief. As the brothers looked at each other Frank said a silent prayer of thanks for Joe's tenacity and absolute refusal to give up no matter how bad the situation got. However Joe closed his eyes, unable to hold his brother's gaze. Worried, Frank thought Joe was hurting more than he wanted anyone to know.

"Joe, how are you feeling? Do you need something stronger for the pain?" Frank asked with concern.

'_They don't have anything for this kind of pain,'_ Joe thought, hating himself. "No, I'm okay."

Little did Frank know the reason Joe was unable to look him in the eye, unable to look at anyone, was the guilt that was eating away at him. It was obvious to Joe that they had never given up on him, even though in the end, he had given up on himself and on Frank.

Slowly he opened his eyes again, focusing on Vanessa. Leaning down, she kissed him softly. "I knew you'd come back to me."

'_She believed in me and I just wanted to die. I was ready to leave her alone. God, how could I do that to her?!'_ Looking at her face as Vanessa pulled away, Joe saw her unwavering faith in him and wondered if he'd ever be able to look her in the eye again.

Watching the silent exchange, Frank realized something was very wrong and it had nothing to do with Joe's numerous injuries. As Joe looked at him, Frank felt a knot in the pit of his stomach. Was that shame he saw in his brother's eyes?

Everyone turned at the sound of the door opening as Dr. Marston walked into the room, a nurse right behind him. Immediately Joe's family took several steps back allowing the doctor room to work.

"Frank…" Joe said, but his hoarse murmur was lost in the bustle of his family, the doctor and the nurse all shifting positions. _'Frank, I need to talk to you! I have to tell you the truth!'_

Joe heard Dr. Marston asking them to wait outside for a few minutes so he could examine Joe.

"No," Joe said feebly as the doctor began his examination. "I need to talk to him," he pleaded quietly.

"Don't worry. They'll be back in a few minutes," Dr. Marston reassured him.

Joe looked over and saw his brother, the last one to leave, hanging back in the doorway. Frank looked at him, concerned.

Joe squeezed his eyes shut as his brother turned and left. At that moment he hated himself for giving up on Frank, who he knew would move heaven and earth and wouldn't have stopped – _didn't_ stop – until Joe had been found. He hated himself for his lack of faith when Frank, Vanessa – his entire family – had obviously never given up on him.

Joe _had_ given up and hoped that Rashman would kill him and end the agony he was in. And that, Joe decided, was more painful than any of the injuries he had suffered at the hands of Keith Rashman. He had to tell Frank the truth of what happened. And more than anything, he needed Vanessa to forgive him for deserting her, at least in his mind. She had believed in him, believed he would hang on no matter what, and eventually come back to her.

'_She deserves someone so much better than me.'_

As Dr. Marston continued his examination, Joe wasn't even aware of the physical pain it caused. It was completely overshadowed by the intense pain that tore through his heart; a pain that he wasn't sure would ever heal.


	24. Chapter 24

Thank you's to TraSan, Calathiel, No1butjoe, Miss Fenway (Go Red Sox! LOL!), MissMe113, blackwolf, franknjoe, pally and josie. Life sucks but you guys make it better. You make me smile. See?? This is me smiling. :-) THANK YOU!!

**Vanished**

**Chapter 24**

Frank sat in the small waiting area just down the corridor from Joe's room. Callie held one of his hands tightly and he wondered how he had coped with everything before she arrived. His other arm was loosely wrapped around Vanessa as she rested her head on his shoulder. Glancing at her, he smiled inwardly. Seeing Joe finally wake up, having the chance to talk to him and hearing him respond had obviously been a huge relief for her as she appeared more relaxed than she had since arriving in Chicago.

Laura and Fenton were seated on the other side of Vanessa, talking softly to one another. Out of the blue Frank wondered how many times his mother had sat in a hospital waiting room waiting to hear whether her husband or one of her sons was going to survive whatever misfortune had befallen them. He suddenly had a newfound respect for his mother, who must have wanted to forbid he or Joe from ever investigating anything more than a cat stuck in a tree, yet remained silent and let them pursue what made them happy. Vaguely he wondered if he would even _want_ his children to follow in his footsteps. As much as Callie supported him unconditionally, he had a strong feeling she would prefer their children choose a much different line of work.

Checking his watch, it seemed to Frank that Dr. Marston was taking an awfully long time to examine Joe. Just as he was about to go in search of the doctor, the man appeared in front of him and Frank did not like the look on his face.

Frank immediately got to his feet. "What's wrong?" The Hardys and Vanessa quickly followed, almost surrounding the doctor.

Dr. Marston frowned. "Joe's temperature is up slightly." This was clearly something he wasn't expecting to find.

Vanessa instinctively moved closer to Frank. "Why?"

Dr. Marston seemed lost in thought for a moment, almost as if he didn't know the answer to Vanessa's question. "There was an awful lot of salt and dirt embedded in the burns on Joe's arm when he arrived. We debrided and cleaned it thoroughly when he first arrived, while he was still under general anesthesia, and have been cleaning and re-bandaging it twice a day. But even if a few particles were missed, that could be enough to result in an infection."

He looked at the crestfallen faces of the Hardys and Vanessa and sighed inwardly. He had been thrilled to be able to give them some good news last night and really hadn't been expecting any complications, at least not this quickly.

"I'm afraid we're going to have to repeat the debriding process again."

"Can't you just give him stronger antibiotics?" Fenton asked. Sydney Greene had explained the debriding process to him a few days earlier and he hated the thought of Joe having to go through it all over again, especially now that he was awake. He knew having the burns cleaned and bandaged was painful in itself and wished they had made this discovery before Joe had regained consciousness.

"I'm afraid not, Mr. Hardy. With burns, the thing that poses the highest risk for complications is infection. If we even suspect the burns on Joe's arm could become infected, we have to act quickly and aggressively."

"When are you going to do it?" Laura asked.

"We're getting ready to do it right now. The longer we wait the higher the risk of infection. I know that's not what you were expecting to hear and I'm sorry."

Laura smiled wanly. "It is a little discouraging. How long will the whole process take?"

"At least an hour, probably more." Dr. Marston checked his watch. "If you want to go out and get some lunch we should be done by the time you get back. But I should warn you, Joe will be heavily medicated. Unfortunately, it's an extremely painful process. We'll want him to be as comfortable as possible afterwards."

Vanessa wiped away a few tears as Frank gave her a reassuring hug. "It's just a setback, Van. He'll bounce back, just like he always does," Frank told her trying to convince himself as much as her.

"I know," she said softly. "It's just not fair, that's all."

As Dr. Marston returned to Joe's room, Fenton took charge of the small group insisting they do as the doctor had suggested and get something to eat. After a minute or so of protests, it was agreed that would be the best thing to do, if only to keep them occupied for a while. As Laura, Callie and Vanessa went to the restroom to freshen up, Frank waited with his father.

"Dad?"

"Yes?"

"I'm going to stay here," Frank said, knowing his father would try to talk him out of it. Before Fenton could start, Frank held up a hand. "Don't even bother trying, because I'm not leaving. I want to be here for Joe when they're done. I know Dr. Marston said he'd be heavily medicated but who knows how long it'll take for that to kick in. Even if I don't serve as anything other than an annoying distraction for him…well, it's better than nothing."

Fenton smiled at Frank, knowing wild horses couldn't drag him away from the hospital now that he had made up his mind.

"I'll bring you something back," Fenton said, squeezing his son's shoulder before he exited the waiting area.

oooOOOooo

Frank stood in the hall directly across from Joe's room. He had gotten antsy sitting in the waiting area by himself and after wandering aimlessly for a little while, positioned himself in front of the closed door of Joe's hospital room. Staring at the door, almost willing it to open, Frank almost jumped out of his skin when it actually did just that.

Dr. Marston looked only mildly surprised to see Frank hovering outside the door. Over the past week, he had noticed the way Frank stayed close to Joe, preferring to stand in the hall of the ICU when he couldn't be in the room, instead of sitting in the waiting area. He had even walked in on Frank talking to his younger brother when Joe was still sedated and realized their relationship was much closer than most siblings. He'd had a sneaking suspicion that Frank would decline to join his family for lunch, instead choosing to wait at the hospital so he could see his brother the second Dr. Marston was finished.

"I'm confident we got everything this time so we shouldn't have to put him through that again," Dr. Marston reassured Frank. "Although we will have to clean and re-bandage his arm twice a day. That in itself can be quite painful, especially this early in the healing process." He could see Frank was getting impatient and motioned towards the door. "You can go in and see him now if you'd like."

"Thanks," Frank replied, side stepping the doctor, anxious to get to his brother.

Walking into the room, he saw a nurse leaning over the bed, speaking to Joe in a low voice. Turning to leave she saw Frank and smiled.

"You can go over and see him now. I'll be right back with something for the pain."

At first glance, Joe appeared to be sleeping. As Frank approached the bed, he could see Joe's eyes weren't merely closed, they were squeezed shut in pain. Joe was more pale than he had been earlier and a few strands of blond hair were stuck to his forehead amidst the beads of sweat. Frank bit his lip and felt his own eyes burn as he saw a lone tear slide down his brother's cheek.

"Joe," he said softly. "I'm here."

Still, Joe didn't open his eyes. He simply lifted his right hand slightly, reaching out for his brother. Frank gently clasped Joe's hand. His eyes widened in surprise when Joe gripped it so tightly his knuckles turned white. Frank heard the door open and the same nurse appeared next to him.

"Joe? How are you doing?" she asked. "Okay?"

Joe never spoke; he simply shook his head no, once, in response.

Frank could hear a jostling of the bags of liquid held aloft on the metal stands by the bed. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the tubes that funneled the much needed fluids into Joe's arm, moving. But he kept watch over his younger brother, never taking his eyes off Joe's face.

"I'm putting the morphine directly into your I.V. You'll feel the effects much quicker that way."

Joe gave a curt nod and clutched his brother's hand a little tighter as another tear left a trail down his pale cheeks.

'_Morphine?'_ Frank thought, surprised. He knew the pain had to be unbearable if it could reduce Joe to tears and he was grateful for the medication that would alleviate the pain, yet at the same time he was scared for his brother. He knew that morphine was probably the strongest, most potent – and most addictive – painkiller available. While morphine would do more than any of the other painkillers available to decrease the pain, nothing could eliminate it completely. And the longer a patient was on morphine, the greater the chance of addiction.

Frank stood and watched his brother try to cope, waiting for the medication to kick in, and felt utterly useless. He could easily tell if the pain was increasing or decreasing by the intensity of Joe's grasp on his hand.

Shortly after the nurse had left, Frank noticed Joe's grip had loosened considerably, to the point where he was barely holding onto Frank's hand. Looking at his brother's face, he saw Joe's features had relaxed and his breathing was slow and even. He realized, thankfully, that Joe had fallen asleep.

Disentangling his hand from Joe's, he pulled the chair up close to the bed. Sitting down, Frank reached through the bars on the guard rail and very gently laid his hand on the only uninjured part of Joe's arm, hoping Joe would know he was still there.

Leaning his head back, Frank closed his eyes. The emotion he'd been trying to contain was fighting its way to the surface and Frank knew he was going to lose this battle. In his mind, he saw Joe's eyes squeezed shut in pain; the few tears he couldn't contain sliding down his cheeks; the death grip Joe had on his hand in a feeble attempt to escape the agony he was in. And Frank desperately wished he could turn back the clock and kill the man who had caused it all.

This previously unknown feeling had started to become second nature to him over the past several days and its intensity and all-consuming passion terrified him. He was scared – deathly afraid – of himself, and what he might be capable of given the right opportunity.

oooOOOooo

Almost an hour later Fenton, Laura, Vanessa and Callie returned, having brought Frank something to eat. Standing so his mother and Vanessa could sit down next to Joe, he paced the room, back and forth, never taking his eyes off his brother. The longer he stayed there, seeing Joe virtually helpless, the more his hatred grew. Feeling as if the walls were closing in on him, Frank quietly left the room and walked down the hall to the small waiting room at the end of the corridor. He had been seated for less than a minute when his father suddenly appeared and took the seat next to him.

"Anything you want to talk about?" Fenton asked.

Frank looked at Fenton wanting very much to tell his father why he was so upset, yet not wanting to disappoint him.

"I do but… I just… I don't want to let you down, Dad," Frank said, conflicted.

Fenton rested a hand on the back of Frank's neck and gave it a gentle squeeze. "You could never let me down, son."

"Never say never," Frank mumbled looking at the floor.

"Why don't you tell me what's bothering you and let me decide if you've 'let me down', hmm?"

Frank took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts. "Dad, every time I see Joe so…hurting like that…God, I can't believe I'm saying this." Frank closed his eyes for a moment then turned and faced his father. "When I go in that room and see what Rashman and Malick did to Joe I wish I had killed them when I had the chance." There. He said it.

Fenton shook his head and stared at his son. "Do you really think I haven't wished the same thing a few times myself?"

Frank's eyes widened in shock.

"We're only human, Frank. Anger is a perfectly natural emotion. Especially after something like this. To be honest I would wonder what was wrong if you _hadn't_ had thoughts of revenge or retaliation. But there's a big difference between wishing someone was dead and acting on it."

"But, Dad, sometimes it's so overwhelming. Today after they were done and had put a new bandage on Joe's arm – I mean they gave him morphine and even that didn't help much. I almost had to leave the room because I couldn't stand to see him like that. I questioned why I shot Rashman in the arm instead of in the head. I mean he was lunging at Joe with a knife. I would have been justified… right?" Frank asked, confused.

"You may have been justified – I'm sure a court of law would have seen it that way – but would you have been able to live with yourself?" Fenton replied. "You shot him in the arm and not the head because you value human life, _**all**_ human life, even if he doesn't."

Fenton pulled his son a little closer and hugged him. "There is nothing wrong with what you're feeling, Frank. These men hurt your brother – badly. It's perfectly normal for you to want to hurt them in return. The difference is you're not acting on it. You haven't taken the law into your own hands. They will pay for what they did to Joe. Believe me, I won't rest until they do."

"So, you're not ashamed of me? For actually wishing I had killed them?" Frank asked hesitantly.

"No, Frank. I'm not ashamed of you. In fact, I couldn't be more proud of the way you've handled everything. So quit being so hard on yourself." Fenton shook his head and chuckled softly. "I don't know which one of you is worse – you for thinking you have to be perfect or Joe for thinking he's invincible."

Frank shrugged his shoulders with a sheepish grin and wisely remained silent.


	25. Chapter 25

TraSan, Polaris, Helen, Alicia, josie, Miss Fenway (sorry about the Red Sox!), MissMe113, No1butjoe, pally, mischief, Calathiel and everyone else who has left even one review – I can't thank you enough. Life is really rough right now, as I know it is for a lot of people, and just the few minutes I spend reading your kind words makes me smile and lifts my spirits like you wouldn't believe. I know it sounds sappy but it's the truth and I wanted you to know it. THANK YOU! :D You guys rock.

**Vanished**

**Chapter 25**

After returning to Joe's room, Frank didn't leave for the rest of the day. He picked at the lunch his father had brought back for him, but found he didn't have much of an appetite. Throughout the afternoon, Joe would wake up but he was still heavily sedated which made for short, and sometimes humorous conversations. He tried to talk to them, to connect with Frank or Vanessa but his slurred, one word answers sometimes had nothing to do with the questions he'd been asked.

At one point Frank noticed his father slip out of the room for a while. He returned almost forty-five minutes later but didn't give any clue as to where he had gone. Shortly after his return, a small, rollaway bed was wheeled into the room and placed in the corner where it would be next to Joe but out of the way of the area the doctors and nurses needed to work. Frank realized his father had gone to request that someone be allowed to stay with Joe during the night, hence the additional bed.

As the chimes sounded, signaling the end to visiting hours, everyone took their turn bidding Joe goodnight, even though he was sound asleep. As the small group prepared to return to the hotel, Frank and Vanessa looked at each other and their eyes locked. Each knew the other wanted to stay with Joe but the doctor had made it clear only one person could remain. Fenton, Laura and Callie discreetly stepped out of the room.

Frank and Vanessa stared at each other for a moment then Frank leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek. "Take care of him," he said quietly. Vanessa watched as Frank walked to the bed, leaned down and said something to Joe. Squeezing his brother's hand, Frank stared at Joe for a moment, then abruptly turned and left.

"Thank you," Vanessa whispered as the door closed behind him.

For the next hour or so, Vanessa alternated between watching Joe, grateful he was alive, and reading or watching television. Just as she was about to turn in for the night, Joe began to stir. A moment later, he opened his eyes and looked around.

"Where is everybody?" he asked, his voice still a little hoarse.

"Visiting hours are over. They went back to the hotel."

"Could you lift the bed up a little?" Joe requested.

Vanessa reached for the remote control and pressed the button elevating the head of the bed until Joe nodded.

"Better?" she asked as she stood to rearrange the pillows under his head.

"Yeah." Joe smiled at her. "Thanks, Babe."

"You're very welcome." She kissed him before taking a seat again, noting that he seemed more alert and coherent than he had all day.

Joe watched her get settled in the chair next to him, and then reach out and take his hand in hers. Immediately he was hit with a wave of guilt as he remembered saying goodbye to her, when he had finally given up and was relieved that Rashman was going to kill him.

'_I don't deserve her,'_ Joe thought despondently. _'Her life is a mess because of me.'_

"Is something wrong?" Vanessa asked concerned by the look of anguish that had suddenly appeared on his face.

When he didn't answer right away, Vanessa reached for the remote once again. "I'm calling the nurse."

"No," Joe said quickly, trying to take the remote away from her.

"Joe, something is obviously wrong," Vanessa said, growing increasingly more worried by the look in his eyes.

"But the nurse can't fix it," Joe said, his voice strained. "No one can."

"What?" Vanessa asked, confused. "What are you talking about?"

"I…I need to tell you something." Joe decided to acknowledge what was bothering him before he lost his nerve.

"Sure, Baby. You can tell me anything, you know that," she said, gently stroking his hand.

"Earlier…you said you knew I'd come back to you…" Joe stopped. Looking into her eyes, he wasn't sure he could do this. How could he tell her that at the end he just wanted to die? She thought he held on, just for her. And he had, up until the alcohol…

"Joe? What is it?" Vanessa asked, concerned. The guilt in his eyes was overwhelming and she was getting the feeling he wanted to make some kind of confession.

"You kept me going. I thought about you constantly. You were the only thing that got me through it."

Vanessa swallowed hard, tears in her eyes, but remained silent.

"And it worked. Whenever I felt like giving up I thought of you and I knew I could hang on. I thought about when we went to New York for your birthday." Joe smiled automatically at the memory of that weekend. "I remembered every single detail. At that point I really thought I could make it. I didn't want to leave you alone." Joe closed his eyes for a moment, trying not to let his emotions overwhelm him.

"But after a while, it got so bad I knew I wasn't going to be able to hold on until they found me. I had blacked out a few times. I knew I was going into shock. I was disoriented. I wasn't even sure what day it was or how long I had been there. It seemed like forever." His eyes filled with pain at the memory.

"I finally decided Frank and Dad weren't coming. I thought my phone call and the envelope weren't enough for him to figure out where I was."

Joe turned to look at Vanessa and her heart broke. The look on his face reflected nothing but guilt and shame.

"I couldn't take it anymore. I just wanted it to be over. I wanted to die. Even if it meant leaving you." His words were so soft, Vanessa could barely hear them. "I'm sorry, Van. I'm so sorry."

As Joe looked away, unable to hold her gaze any longer, Vanessa quickly wiped her eyes, thankful that he didn't see it_. 'Why do you think you have to be Superman?'_

"Joe, you have _nothing_ to apologize for. You're here, you're alive and you're going to recover. You _did_ come back to me. As far as I'm concerned, nothing else matters," she said gently. "The only thing you gave up on was being in pain. And no one blames you for that."

Still, Joe wouldn't look at her. Vanessa gently turned his head, forcing him to look her in the eyes.

"You're not some superhero, Joe." She shook her head slightly. "I hate to be the one to break it to you, but you're only human. You just wanted the pain to stop. There is nothing wrong with that and it is definitely nothing to be ashamed of. And I'd bet money no one else would have lasted as long as you did."

Joe was silent, thinking about what she had said. He recalled Rashman saying almost the exact same thing. Staring at Vanessa, he saw there wasn't a trace of anger or disappointment on her face. "You're not disappointed in me? For giving up?"

Vanessa sighed heavily. "If you weren't so stubborn you might have given up long before they found you, but you didn't. _**IF**_ I were disappointed in you, it would only be because you are so insistent that you did something wrong. You're alive and we've got out whole lives ahead of us. How could I possibly be disappointed about that?"

"So maybe being stubborn isn't so bad after all then, huh?" Joe asked tentatively. What she said made sense, but Joe knew it was going to take a long time before he forgave himself, even if she thought there was nothing to forgive.

"Maybe," she replied, kissing him on the cheek. "As long as you don't turn that stubbornness on me," she teased, relieved to see Joe finally crack a smile, which was immediately followed by a yawn.

"Why don't you try and get some sleep," Vanessa suggested. She saw him look around the room, his eyes resting on the small bed. "I'll be right here when you wake up."

"Wow, how'd you get Frank to let _you_ stay the night?" Joe mumbled, as his eyes fluttered shut. Before Vanessa could answer, he was sound asleep.

Leaning down, she kissed him gently. "Goodnight, Superman."

oooOOOooo

The next morning, Vanessa stood in the entrance of the waiting area, which was located directly across from the elevators. Joe had awakened earlier and he Vanessa had breakfast together as she had gotten something for herself from the hospital cafeteria. She was relieved to hear Joe complain about the one very small bowl of lime Jell-O he was given, as she knew that was a sign he was feeling better than he had the day before.

After breakfast, they talked for a while but mostly just sat quietly together. A short while ago, Dr. Marston had arrived to check on Joe, and Vanessa had left them alone. She was now waiting for the Hardys to arrive, as visiting hours would be starting momentarily. She wanted to talk to Frank about the discussion she and Joe had the previous evening before he went in to see his brother.

Almost on cue, the elevator doors opened and Frank, Callie, Laura and Fenton stepped off. Vanessa approached them smiling, not wanting them to think the reason she was out in the hall was because something had happened to Joe during the night.

"Good morning." She gave them each a quick hug. "Dr. Marston stopped in to check on Joe, before he started his rounds this morning," she said explaining her presence in the hall.

"How was he during the night? Did he sleep okay?" Fenton asked.

"He woke up once, but they came in and gave him some pain medication and he went right back to sleep. He seemed better this morning. More alert. He even complained about breakfast." She could see Laura sigh in relief.

"Good morning." Everyone turned at the sound of Dr. Marston's voice. "Don't worry," he said in response to the concerned looks. "He's doing very well. Better than I expected actually. His temperature is back to normal and other than when we have to clean and re-bandage his arm, we'll be reducing the pain medication."

"So soon?" Laura asked, worried.

"It will be reduced very slowly, and we can always increase it again if he needs it. But it's best to get him on the least amount of medication required to keep him comfortable." Dr. Marston stopped and chuckled. "He just asked me how soon he could go home."

"You're right. He is starting to feel better," Frank smiled, relieved to hear that Joe was already starting to act like his old self.

"You can go on in. We won't be changing the bandage on his arm for a few hours yet. I'll check in on him later," the doctor said as he got on the elevator to begin his rounds for the morning.

As the Hardys started down the hall, Vanessa touched Frank on the arm and motioned for him to join her in the waiting area. Frank followed and sat next to her.

"Last night, Joe made a confession of sorts," Vanessa began. "I don't know if he'll say anything to you today – if he'll say anything to you at all – but I wanted to tell you about it."

"Okay," Frank replied, hoping it might have something to do with Joe's strange reaction when he had first regained consciousness.

"Apparently, something happened right before you and your Dad found him. I guess whatever they did to him was the last straw. He told me…" Vanessa stopped a moment, wiping away a tear. "I didn't think it would be this hard."

"Take your time," Frank said reassuringly.

She nodded, taking a deep breath before she continued. "He said he gave up. He couldn't take anymore and he just wanted to die. I mean who could blame him? I'm sure he lasted longer than anyone else could have. But he felt so guilty. So…ashamed," Vanessa finished her voice breaking.

Frank sighed inwardly as he remembered his father's comment from the day before and realized Fenton was right in his assessment of his younger son. _'Joe thinks he's supposed to be invincible. And if he isn't he thinks he's let everyone down.'_

"He even _apologized_ to me, Frank. Can you believe it? He apologized because the pain got so bad he couldn't take it anymore."

"I hope you told him he's crazy."

"I told him the only thing he gave up on was the pain. Not me, you, or himself."

Frank's eyes widened. "He said he gave up on me?"

Vanessa nodded. "He said he was so disoriented he didn't even know what day it was. Apparently, he thought he had been there for several days. He assumed that whatever clues he left you weren't enough and you couldn't find him. Frank, my heart just broke for him. He really thinks he's done something so horrible no one will ever forgive him. I mean there's nothing to forgive!" she said in exasperation.

Frank shook his head in disbelief as everything suddenly clicked for him. Why Joe couldn't look him in the eye, why he had acted so strangely towards Vanessa. Meeting Vanessa's eyes, he smiled.

"Thanks for telling me, Van. Hopefully you got through to him. Maybe he'll realize that simply wanting to be free of the pain is nothing to be ashamed of."

Vanessa arched an eyebrow. "This is _Joe_ we're talking about here."

"Yeah, right," Frank said, wryly. "The poster child for guilt."

"Are you going to say anything to him?"

Frank thought a moment before answering. "I think I'll wait and see if he brings it up. He has enough to deal with right now even if he is starting to feel better. But I _will_ let him know that he did hang on until we found him, so that means whatever he did was the right thing to do." Frank stood and smiled, offering a hand to Vanessa. "Come on. Let's go see the Invincible Man."


	26. Chapter 26

Many, many thanks to everyone who has reviewed and to all who are reading. :-)

This was one of my favorite chapters to write for this story.

**Vanished **

**Chapter 26**

Joe's condition steadily improved over the next two days and he was allowed to get out of bed a few times a day to sit on the chairs or small sofa in the room, joking at the "change of scenery" it provided. Vanessa had asked Frank if he wanted to stay with Joe at night, and although he did, he knew Vanessa was more comfortable spending the nights in Joe's hospital room rather than alone in the bedroom of the suite and declined. Knowing his brother was now out of danger, he was content to arrive as soon as visiting hours started and spend the day with Joe. When Frank arrived each morning, Vanessa would take the opportunity to go back to the hotel to shower and change, returning later with Callie, Fenton or Laura.

This particular morning, Joe was anxious to finish breakfast as he had been promised that today he would be allowed to venture out of his room.

"What time is it?" Joe asked, fidgeting.

"Five minutes later than the last time you asked." Vanessa smiled wryly.

"Sorry." Joe gave her a sheepish grin. "I haven't seen anything but these four walls in over a week."

"I understand," Vanessa stood then leaned down and kissed him. "Let me go see if I can find a nurse and we can spring you from this place."

Five minutes later, Vanessa returned with Gayle Seavers, one of the nurses who had been taking care of Joe since he'd been moved to a private room.

"You want me to use _that_?" Joe asked with disdain and a dirty look for the wheelchair Gayle was pushing.

"Well, you can't walk on that foot yet and crutches are out of the question." She arched an eyebrow and glanced at his heavily bandaged left arm.

"I can limp…hobble…" Joe attempted to turn on the charm.

Gayle crossed her arms over her chest. "It's this or nothing."

Joe looked at Vanessa dubiously. "Do you know how to drive that thing?"

"Don't worry. You'll be safe in my hands," she told him confidently.

Having had practice getting out of bed the last few days, Joe was seated in the wheelchair in short order. As Gayle adjusted the foot rests and gave Vanessa a few pointers on pushing, pulling and steering, she noticed Joe was already protectively cradling his left arm close to his body.

"Let me get one more thing. I'll be right back," she said, leaving the room.

Joe looked at Vanessa questioningly who just shrugged her shoulders in response.

A moment later she returned with a sling. "Let's put this on you." Gayle leaned over Joe and helped him place his left arm in the sling, adjusting it for him and then smiled. "Less chance of someone accidentally bumping into it."

"Thanks."

"You're welcome," she winked. "Okay, the sun room is on the tenth floor. Just take the elevators at the end of the hall and turn right when you get off," she directed them as they left the room. "And don't keep him out too long. He can go again this afternoon."

"I'll have him back before curfew," Vanessa joked as Joe prodded her to _"Hurry up!"_ anxious for his 'adventure' to begin.

Vanessa smiled as, during their trek to the tenth floor Joe chatted up everyone and anyone they ran into, while trying to keep his eyes on everything that was happening around them. Arriving in the sunroom, Vanessa was pleasantly surprised to see they were the only ones there and then realized it was because visiting hours hadn't officially started yet.

Positioning Joe in front of one of the large windows, Vanessa pulled a chair up next him and sat down, both of them awed into silence for several minutes by the imposing view of Lake Michigan. Moving carefully, Joe reached out, taking Vanessa's hand and intertwining his fingers through hers. Lifting it to his lips, Joe kissed her hand gently.

"I'm sorry I worried you."

"It wasn't your fault, Joe."

"I know, but still…" He shrugged apologetically. "When you were missing I almost went out of my mind. If Frank hadn't been there, I know I would have snapped."

Vanessa hesitated, debating whether or not she should say what was on her mind. Joe had just given her the perfect opening, but she wasn't sure if he would want to hear it and she certainly didn't want to upset him.

"What?" he asked, knowing there was something she wanted to say.

"I almost lost it myself a few times. Especially when we still had no idea where you were or what had happened," she replied, cautiously. "If not for your mother…and especially Callie…I don't know what I would have done. She was there for both of us."

"I'm glad she was there for you. And Mom." Joe stared at her for a long moment. "You miss her, huh?"

Vanessa smiled wanly in response.

"C'mere." Very slowly, Joe reached out and put his right arm around Vanessa. She gently laid her head on his shoulder as they sat quietly and watched the morning sun reflecting off the water. Absently twirling a lock of Vanessa's hair in his fingers, Joe silently thanked Callie for being there for Vanessa. He knew Vanessa must have been terrified and was grateful she didn't have to endure the waiting, and wondering, alone.

oooOOOooo

Joe and Vanessa had spent quite a bit of time enjoying the view from the sunroom before Vanessa suggested they should head back to the room, much to Joe's dismay. He did manage to charm her into getting off the elevator at every floor for a trip up and down the corridors, prolonging his brief foray into freedom a little longer.

When they arrived back at Joe's room, they found Fenton, Frank, Laura and Callie waiting for them, visiting hours having begun while they were in the sunroom. Callie offered to take Vanessa back to the hotel and wait while she showered and changed, giving the Hardys some time alone with Joe. They returned a few hours later after a brief stop at a bookstore so Vanessa could pick up some magazines for Joe. As Joe had begun to feel better he had started to get restless. Knowing he was frustrated at not being very mobile, Vanessa hoped the numerous magazines on sports and cars would help keep him occupied.

By early afternoon, Callie was sitting alone in Joe's room reading a book while he slept. As Joe began to stir, she watched his eyelids flutter a few times before opening. Joe looked around the room slightly disoriented, until his gaze rested on her.

"Hey," he said with a tired smile.

"Hey yourself." Callie returned the smile.

"Where is everybody?" Joe asked looking around once again.

"Your Dad and Frank got a call from Detective Sanchez and they went to meet with him. Your Mom insisted Vanessa go down to the cafeteria with her and get something to eat."

"And that left you to baby-sit the invalid, huh?" Joe grinned, raising the head of the bed and wincing slightly at the movement. "Well, I'm glad Mom made Vanessa eat something. She hasn't been taking care of herself. Too busy worrying about me," he complained, attempting to readjust the pillows. "Damn! I hate being one handed."

"Here, let me help." Callie stood and arranged the pillows more comfortably for him. "Better?"

"Mm-hmm. Thanks."

"You're welcome. I'll run down and get Vanessa. She wanted to know as soon as you woke up."

Joe reached out and touched her arm before she had a chance to move. "Wait."

Callie stopped as the butterflies in her stomach began to flutter. Ever since Vanessa had been kidnapped, Callie and Joe hadn't spoken at length about anything and whenever they did speak, it was always a little strained. Having no idea what to expect, Callie sat down again and waited.

Joe looked at her intently. There was something he had wanted to ask her ever since the night he found out she had been blackmailed but the time never seemed right. It didn't seem appropriate now either, but in order to understand why Callie had given in to the blackmailers he had to know. And he couldn't get past it all without at least trying to understand. "When you were contacted by Trevor and he threatened to send those pictures to Frank…why didn't you tell me right away?"

Callie felt her heart beat a little faster and she found she was gripping the armrests of the chair. She had prepared herself for some kind of angry outburst from Joe, assuming he still hadn't forgiven her for what happened to Vanessa, but not this. For a moment, she was shocked speechless.

"Come on, Cal. You had to know me of all people would understand why you wouldn't want to tell Frank," Joe said, his voice taking on a slightly wounded tone. All at once it dawned on him that Callie not coming to him immediately had hurt him deeply. They had become extremely close in the weeks after Vanessa had been raped, when Frank was acting so distant towards him, and the knowledge that Callie didn't trust him enough to tell him about the pictures cut him to the quick.

"I honestly don't know, Joe. Obviously, when I look back on everything, that would have been the most logical thing to do. At the time, he insisted I make a decision right then and there." She gave him the tiniest of smiles. "I couldn't exactly say 'Can I call you back in ten minutes? I'd like to discuss it with my brother-in-law first.'" Callie held her breath until she saw Joe chuckling quietly. "But I really should have called you the second I hung up. I was just so terrified, Joe. I had convinced myself that Frank would never believe me. Not after what happened between the two of you."

Joe had been listening intently to her, his piercing blue eyes never wavering. He swallowed hard as the memory – and pain – of Frank's betrayal came rushing back to him. As happened every time he was reminded of the incident, he quickly pushed it aside still not ready to face it head on.

Joe sat for a moment, staring at her as he tried to digest what she had just told him. He had to admit, it made a certain amount of sense when he looked at it from her point of view. She and Frank had been together for eight years and Joe was so used to having her around, he sometimes forgot she really didn't have as much experience in dealing with the darker elements of life as he and Frank did.

"Just promise me something," Joe finally said.

"What's that?" Callie asked, desperate to begin repairing her relationship with Joe. She truly missed him and wanted him back in her life. She was also acutely aware that their distance was taking a toll on Frank.

"If you ever feel like you can't go to Frank, can't talk to him about something, for _whatever_ reason – promise that you'll come to me, okay?" Joe requested.

Callie exhaled in relief. The obviously heartfelt appeal was music to her ears. "I promise," she replied sincerely.

"Good," Joe said, feeling a little better. Maybe now they could work on repairing their damaged friendship. He wanted to be able to talk to Callie about anything and everything, like he'd done in the past, but knew he couldn't do that if he didn't trust her. And that wouldn't happen unless he opened up and gave her the chance to earn his trust back.

"Joe?" Callie's voice was tentative.

"Hmm?" he looked at her.

"I know I have a lot to make up for. It's going to take a long time before you trust me again, I understand that but… if you could just give me a chance… give me the opportunity to try and do that…" Callie stopped, thinking possibly she had gone too far and Joe wasn't ready for that just yet.

Very slowly, a smile spread across Joe's face. "I think that's a good idea."

Callie hesitated for a second then stood and kissed him lightly on the cheek. "Thank you," she said softly.

"Okay, this is getting just a little too mushy for me," Joe smiled at her with that mischievous spark she had missed so much. "_Now_ you can go fetch Vanessa for me."

"_**Fetch**_ me?!" Vanessa's indignant voice echoed through the room as she stood in the doorway, having just returned from the cafeteria. "Joseph Hardy!"

Callie erupted in laughter at the look on Joe's face – a deer caught in the headlights.

Joe slouched down in the bed and attempted to look pathetically ill. He turned wide, innocent eyes on his fiancée. "Did I say that? Sorry, Babe. It must have been the pain medication. You know I'd never say something like that if I were thinking straight," he rambled on.

Vanessa stood, hands on her hips, trying to look appropriately offended. Joe smiled at her, extending his right hand and she felt her resolve slip away. As Vanessa gently settled herself on the bed next to him, Callie quietly exited the room.


	27. Chapter 27

Thank you to those who are reading. Big hugs to everyone who has reviewed. :-) 

**Vanished**

**Chapter 27**

Fenton Hardy entered the parking lot across from the police station and pulled his rental car into the first available space. Carlos Sanchez had called to let him know Keith Rashman and Dennis Malick were being arraigned that day and would plead to the charges against them. Carlos offered to make arrangements for him and Frank to attend if they wanted to. Both were very anxious to see the two men behind bars permanently and wanted to send a clear message that they would not get away with what they had done to Joe.

Carlos had also asked if they would stay afterwards and give their official statements as to exactly what they saw and heard once they found Joe. Sanchez knew it was against official procedures for him to have waited this long to get their statements, but his heart and his conscience got the better of him and he wanted to wait until Joe was out of the woods before he made Frank and Fenton relive the horrible details.

The Hardys made their way to the police station and, after identifying themselves at the front desk and confirming they had an appointment with Detective Sanchez, they were led to his office on the fifth floor. Carlos' desk was situated in the back of a long, narrow room, near a window. Files and papers surrounded his desk and some had taken up residence on an empty desk close by.

"Fenton, Frank. Thanks for coming," Carlos said shaking their hands. "How's Joe doing?"

"Better, thank you," Fenton replied, obviously relieved. "He's progressing better than the doctor had anticipated. He's even starting to act like himself – flirting with the nurses, complaining about the food."

"That's good to hear," Carlos smiled. "I'm looking forward to meeting him."

"I spoke with Dr. Marston and he said it would be fine for you to come to the hospital and get Joe's statement. But I'd like to put it off until tomorrow or the next day."

"Whatever you think is best, Fenton. I know it's going to be extremely difficult for him"

"I just want to have some time to mentally prepare him for it."

As Frank listened to the conversation between his father and Carlos, he wandered over to the window and peered out, taking in the view of downtown Chicago. Turning back, he glanced at the unused desk that contained the overflow of Carlos' case files when something caught his eye. Getting a little closer, he peered at what had grabbed his attention and felt his heart leap into his throat.

Laid out on the desk, obviously in some kind of order, were all the pictures Rashman had taken of Joe. Leaning over the desk, Frank felt his heart start to race. He moved a few of the pictures an inch or two, so as to get a better view of all of them and felt a knot form in the pit of his stomach.

Picking up one of the pictures, he was met with an image of Keith Rashman holding a burning log so it was in direct contact with Joe's left arm. Another picture showed the same thing, but was obviously taken a moment later as portions of Joe's arm were already raw and red. A third picture clearly showed the pain on Joe's face as a result of the burns.

A voice in Frank's head told him not to look any further, but he couldn't look away. He was vaguely aware of eyes watching him, but he didn't care. For the next several minutes, he studied the pictures of his brother being beaten with a heavy chain; punched and strangled by Rashman; he saw how the gash on Joe's foot had come to be, the smile on Rashman's face showing he was enjoying every minute of it.

Frank noticed his hands were now shaking as he held the pictures and wave after wave of intense emotions washed over him. It didn't surprise him that the most dominant of these emotions were hatred and revenge.

He saw Joe being doused with water, obviously choking on it and visibly shuddered when he saw scorpions crawling on his brother's arm, neck and head with the next picture showing the two sites where he'd been stung – red, swollen and painful just to look at. His stomach tightened when he saw the leather straps tied around Joe's neck and wrists and it threatened to rebel completely at the sight of Rashman rubbing salt into the burns on Joe's arm. Picking up the last picture, taken at the exact moment Joe had been hit with the alcohol, Frank covered his mouth with one hand and gagged. Seconds later, he dropped the picture back on the desk and bolted for the men's room, becoming violently ill.

Several moments later, Frank leaned back against the cool tile of the bathroom wall, tears in his eyes as he realized every single picture had one thing in common. While Joe had been able to remain silent, during his captivity and torture, he wasn't able to keep the agony he was in from showing on his face.

"I'm sorry, Joe," Frank choked out. "I'm so sorry."

Sliding down the wall, Frank sat on the floor of the rest room, staring straight ahead and hating himself more than he ever thought possible.

'_Why? Why didn't I find him sooner?! God, I let him down this time! Really let him down. How can I ever look him in the eye again?'_

Leaning his head back, Frank's thoughts turned to Keith Rashman and the feeling that rose in him left him absolutely terrified. After seeing the actual pictures of the abuse Joe had endured at the hands Keith Rashman, Frank found he would give anything to turn the clock back and have one more chance to kill the man who had tortured his brother.

Slowly, Frank got to his feet and walked to the sink. He splashed cold water on his face, rinsed out his mouth and downed a few gulps of water. Raising his head, he looked at his reflection in the mirror and almost didn't recognize himself. Never in his life did he think he would see that look in his own eyes. Fenton Hardy had impressed upon his sons from the time they were very young that revenge was never the answer to a problem. Frank had lived by that rule his whole life, firmly believing that revenge never solved anything. Today, however, Frank thought that maybe his father was wrong.

With a coldness in his heart that was reflected in his eyes, Frank exited the restroom and rejoined his father and Carlos Sanchez and silently waited for the arraignment of Keith Rashman. This feeling that just one week earlier had been completely unknown to him, was now his best friend. Frank would not rest until Keith Rashman had paid for what he did to Joe.

oooOOOooo

Frank, Fenton and Carlos made their way to the courthouse for the arraignment hearing where, just outside the courtroom, they met up with District Attorney Peter Handling, a man in his early fifties with salt and pepper hair and intense blue-gray eyes.

"Mr. Hardy, it's a pleasure to meet you," Peter Handling said, extending his hand. "I'm sorry about what happened to your son. At least some good will come out of it. We finally have a case that can put these two behind bars."

"Thank you, Mr. Handling. Believe me, there is nothing I want more than to see them put away for what they did to Joe," Fenton replied.

"I understand we'll be able to call you two as witnesses also, correct?" the D.A. continued, shaking hands with Frank.

"Yes, sir," Frank replied, his voice tight with controlled emotion. "We're very anxious to help you in any way we can."

Fenton Hardy glanced at his oldest son in mild concern. He had never heard that tone in Frank's voice before, nor had he seen the look of intense hatred that had been present in Frank's eyes ever since he returned from the restroom.

At that moment, the door opened signaling them to enter. As Frank, Fenton and Carlos took seats directly behind Peter Handling, Fenton leaned over to his son.

"Frank, are you all right?"

"Fine," Frank replied in the same tone, his eyes glued to the door at the side of the courtroom.

Sitting back, Fenton recalled the conversation he'd had with Frank when Frank admitted that he wished he had killed Keith Rashman when he had the chance. After they had spoken, he was confident Frank's thoughts were just that – random thoughts, never to be acted on. But that was before he had seen the pictures of what Joe had been forced to endure. Fenton prayed it wasn't a mistake bringing Frank to the hearing where he would be only a few feet away from the man who had tortured his brother. He prayed Frank's random thoughts hadn't suddenly become his reality.

A moment later the door Frank had been staring at finally opened and Keith Rashman and Dennis Malick were led into the courtroom. Malick had both his hands and feet shackled. Rashman, however, had shackles only around his ankles as his right arm was in a sling due to the bullet wounds he had sustained when Frank had shot him several days earlier.

As the two men took their places at the defense table, Rashman turned to Frank and smiled. With unconcealed hatred, Frank stared back at Keith Rashman hoping that somehow, he would know how much Frank wanted to see him dead.

As the judge entered the courtroom, everyone stood, waited for him to be seated and then did the same. The judge studied the papers in front of him then addressed the District Attorney.

"Mr. Handling, what are the charges?"

Standing, Peter Handling read the list of charges that had been filed against Rashman and Malick. "Your Honor, the State of Illinois charges Keith Rashman and Dennis Malick with the kidnapping, assault and battery and attempted murder of Joseph Hardy. We have been unable to question the victim as yet, since he has been hospitalized for several days and just recently regained consciousness. We would like to reserve the right to file additional charges after we get a statement from Mr. Hardy."

"Very well," the judge responded, then turned to the defense attorney. "Mr. Barning, you are representing both defendants?"

"Yes, Your Honor, I am," the defense attorney replied, standing up.

Frank gazed at the man, with light brown hair and hazel eyes, who appeared utterly confident and in complete control. Although he knew it was irrational, Frank took an immediate dislike to the man who was going to defend the people who tried to kill his brother.

"And how do your clients plead?"

"Not guilty by reason of insanity."

Frank heard his father gasp, and then swear under his breath. Glancing at the District Attorney, Frank noticed the man didn't seem happy about the plea.

"Your Honor, I would also like to revisit the question of bail for my clients," Barning continued.

The judge cut him off. "No, Mr. Barning. Bail has already been denied with good reason. Mr. Rashman and Mr. Malick will be remanded to the county jail until trial."

The proceedings swiftly concluded and the bailiff prepared for the next case. As Rashman and Malick were led towards the exit they had to pass directly in front of Frank and Fenton.

As they slowly walked by, Rashman came to a stop and addressed Fenton. "Hello, Mr. Hardy." He smiled, although to Frank it looked more like a self-satisfied smirk. "This must be your other son," he continued, glancing at Frank. "He's the spitting image of you. You must be very proud."

Frank watched as his father clenched his fists, barely able to control his rage, and Frank wanted nothing more than to lash out and punch the smirk right off Rashman's face. Instead, he chose a different tactic.

"You know those pictures you took of my brother?" Frank said evenly.

Rashman looked at him, with the same infuriating smile, but neither acknowledged or denied the photographs.

"I just wanted to thank you. They helped save his life," Frank finished with a smile of his own.

Rashman's smile disappeared instantly and was replaced with unabashed hatred.

"You should have killed me when you had the chance," Rashman snarled.

"Don't worry. Should the opportunity present itself, I won't make the same mistake twice," Frank replied, the hatred in his eyes, reflected in his voice. "Thanks again." Frank called out as Rashman was quickly led away by the guards.

Fenton looked at Frank and was shocked at what he saw in his son's eyes. A shadow of doubt began to gnaw at him, as he wasn't sure whether Frank's words were just an idle threat – or a promise of revenge. That combined with the stark reality of the plea that had been entered for Rashman and Malick, and what it meant should they succeed, combined to leave him with a sudden feeling of powerlessness and overwhelming depression.

Turning to look at his father, Frank was shocked to see him pale and wobbly on his feet.

"Dad! What's wrong?" Frank cried out, helping his father to sit down.

"My, God," he whispered. "They might actually get away with it."

"That's impossible, Dad," Frank tried to reassure him, a little unnerved at seeing his normally unflappable father on the verge of falling apart. "The evidence is overwhelming."

"Which is exactly why they went with the insanity defense," Handling said. "Unfortunately, it's an excellent strategy and it just might work."

"What?!" Frank asked, incredulous. "How can a jury _possibly_ believe they're not guilty?"

"When a jury hears the details of what they did to Joe – sees the pictures – they won't want to believe a sane person could do something like that. None of us wants to believe that one human being could knowingly inflict that kind of pain on another person. We want a reason we can understand for that kind of abhorrent behavior. Something that makes sense to us. A jury would like nothing better than for the defense to convince them that Rashman and Malick were insane.

"My guess is Barning will admit right from the start that they kidnapped and tortured Joe. His entire defense will hinge on getting the jury to believe they were insane at the time they committed the crime and therefore not responsible for their actions."

"You mean…they could really get away with what they did to Joe?" Frank asked in total disbelief.

Peter looked at Frank and Fenton sympathetically. Carlos could barely look them in the eye. He had come to like them immensely in the short time he'd known them and felt that somehow, he had let them down. It appeared the airtight case against Rashman and Malick was falling apart before it even had a chance to get started.

Frank sat down heavily as the reality hit him full force. Rashman and Malick could be sent to a psychiatric facility and once they were declared mentally competent, they would be released, free and clear. And unlike any other career, having been confined to a mental hospital would only enhance their reputations and give them that much more respect in their field.

"He's right," Fenton finally said in a hoarse whisper. He looked at Frank, absolutely devastated. "They almost killed Joe. And they may never have to pay for it."

Seeing the look on his father's face was all it took to cement Frank's resolve. _'No way, Dad. Even if a jury finds them not guilty, they will pay. I promise you, one way or another, they will pay for what they did to Joe.'_


	28. Chapter 28

I'm glad everyone seemed to like Frank goading Rashman about the pictures. That was one of my favorite parts, too. :-)

Thanks for reading – and reviewing!

**Vanished**

**Chapter 28**

Frank sat in the chair, magazine in hand, although he wasn't actually reading it. Instead, he was stealing frequent, worried glances at his younger brother who was feverishly working the T.V. remote trying to find something that would distract him from what was about to happen. To anyone else, Joe appeared to be intent on searching the channels, but Frank could easily see the anxiety in his brother's blue eyes.

Detective Carlos Sanchez would be arriving shortly to question Joe, in detail, about exactly what Keith Rashman and Denis Malick had done to him. Even though they had the pictures the two men had taken, with no eyewitnesses to what had happened, Joe's testimony would be crucial. Ever since the arrangements for Carlos' visit had been made, Joe had clearly avoided talking about it.

Frank knew Joe was apprehensive at having to relive those twenty-four hours of abuse. Frank himself was not looking forward to hearing about it, but there was no way he would desert his brother now, when Joe needed him the most. Frank still hadn't been able to shake the intense emotions seeing the pictures had evoked. After he and his father had left the police station after giving their statements the previous evening, they returned to the hospital to visit Joe. Frank had found it almost impossible to hide what he was feeling from his younger brother and was thankful there was only an hour or so left before visiting hours were over.

Upon returning to the hotel, Frank had paced the bedroom like a caged animal until Callie suggested he go down to the hotel gym to try and work off some of the emotions that were eating away at him. He had no idea how long he had run on the treadmill or how far but by the time he was done, he'd been dripping with sweat and completely exhausted.

Frank realized he had increased the speed of the treadmill again and again and again as if he could outrun the burning need for revenge that had consumed him. It seemed to have dulled the extreme reaction he'd had, until this morning. When he awoke, the fire inside him was burning out of control once again. Frank was certain it had been fueled by the nightmares he'd had all night, each one different but all of them inspired by the horrific pictures he had seen the day before.

Pushing those thoughts to the back of his mind, Frank concentrated on remaining calm and unemotional for Joe's sake. He hadn't told Joe about seeing the pictures and Joe hadn't asked. In fact, Joe hadn't asked about anything that had happened while Frank and Fenton were gone, which made Frank realize Joe was having a difficult time dealing with everything. More than he was letting on. All the more reason for Frank to remain in control at all times, knowing Joe would feed off any emotions Frank let show.

"Are you sure Mom and Vanessa aren't going to walk in on this?" Joe asked nervously, turning off the T.V. and throwing the remote on the nightstand. If only he could get up, walk around – MOVE – do something to burn off some of this nervous energy.

"Dad was honest with them, Joe. He said you were giving your statement today and didn't want them here when you did it."

"So what are they doing all day? Hanging around the hotel? That could get old pretty fast."

"They're going out for lunch and then to the Sears Tower. If you're not done by then, they'll go shopping."

"What if they finish early and assume we're done and show up here?" Joe said, getting more agitated by the minute. "I don't want them walking in and hearing any of it."

Frank got up and sat on the edge of the bed, looking directly at his brother. "They agreed not to come back until Dad calls and tells them you're done." Frank kept his voice calm hoping it would help Joe relax a little bit. "Don't worry, Joe. We've taken care of it."

"Well, okay," Joe responded, not nearly as confident as Frank was. "If you're sure."

"I'm sure." Frank patted Joe on the leg. Looking closely at him, Frank sensed something else was troubling Joe. "Is something else bothering you?" he asked gently.

Joe hesitated a moment before responding. "I…well..." Joe stuttered. "No," he finally mumbled, looking away.

"I don't have to be a detective to pick up on that clue," Frank joked, trying to lighten the mood. "Come on, spill it. What's wrong?"

Joe appeared to be working up the nerve to say something, and then finally just blurted it out. "You don't have to stay if you don't want to," Joe said, the look on his face begging Frank not to leave. "It's gonna get…ugly."

'_I've seen the pictures, Joe. I know how ugly it gets.'_ Frank swallowed hard, determined not to let his emotions get the best of him. "I'm not leaving."

"I mean…it's…it's bad, Frank. Really bad," Joe told him, not looking forward to reliving it all again.

"I know it's bad. And that's why there is no way I am leaving you," Frank said with quiet determination.

Joe smiled, gratefully. "Thanks, bro."

Try as he might, Frank could not keep the murderous thoughts that had been haunting him from bubbling back to the surface. If Joe was this rattled about having to give a statement, how in the world was he going to make it through a trial as the prosecution's star witness?

'_God, why didn't I kill them…' _Frank thought, as he watched Joe nervously rearrange the sheet then pick up the remote once again.

oooOOOooo

Just outside the door, Fenton Hardy and Carlos Sanchez were listening to Dr. Marston. "If Joe says he wants to stop, at any time, then your interview is over," he told Sanchez.

"Absolutely," Carlos agreed.

"I haven't pushed the issue because you said Joe has a therapist that he trusts back home," Marston now addressed Fenton. "But he hasn't said anything at all about what happened to him and that concerns me. Something like that is too traumatic for anyone to just take in stride." He now looked at both men. "If he starts to get upset or suddenly doesn't want to talk about it anymore, I want the questions to stop immediately."

"I understand completely," Carlos replied.

"I'll be back to check on him a little later," the doctor told Fenton, and then departed for the nurses' station.

Fenton eyed the envelope containing the pictures of Joe that Carlos held in his hand. He too had looked at them the previous day, after Frank had run from the room. He still wasn't sure how, but he had managed to maintain control and not break down as he looked at them. But when Fenton was finally alone that night, after everyone had gone to sleep, he cried, unable to stop for a very long time. Not knowing how Joe would react to seeing the pictures, he tried to prepare himself for the worst.

The previous evening, Fenton had spent some time alone with Joe trying to prepare him for this. Joe had simply listened to what his father had to say and then nodded his consent. That very subdued reaction was enough to keep Fenton up most of the night worrying that Joe wasn't mentally ready to do this.

"Let's get it over with," he said, loathing the thought of Joe having to describe each torture in vivid detail. Pushing the door open, Fenton and Carlos walked into the room.

…

Hearing the door open, Joe looked up and felt his stomach tighten. He had known that eventually he would have to tell the police what had happened in as much detail as possible, but he had tried to push it to the back of his mind. Seeing his father enter the room with a tall, dark haired man Joe accepted that 'eventually' had become 'now'.

"Hi, Dad."

"Hello, Joe. How are you feeling today?" Fenton asked, the smile on his face not able to hide the concern in his eyes.

"Fine." Joe eyed Carlos Sanchez.

"This is Detective Carlos Sanchez," Fenton made the introduction. "I told you about him last night."

"Nice to meet you, sir." Joe extended his hand.

"Hi, Joe." Carlos smiled and shook his hand. "Please call me Carlos. Sir makes me feel too old."

"Carlos." Joe repeated the name and smiled.

Carlos studied Joe with a practiced eye, taking in Joe's heavily bandaged left arm, resting on a pillow, the now fading red area on his right arm where he'd been stung, the still visible bruises on his neck and wrists and the way he gingerly shifted in the bed, obviously trying to protect his broken ribs from any unnecessary movement. Based on what he had seen in the pictures, it seemed to Carlos that Joe was making quite a remarkable recovery, at least physically. He wondered how anyone could ever truly recover from something like this, mentally.

Chairs were pulled up and Carlos took a seat near the foot of the bed. Frank sat very close to the bed on Joe's right, while Fenton sat down on the opposite side of Joe, positioning himself so he could clearly see Joe's face.

Pulling out a small tape recorder, pad of paper and pen, Carlos set the tape recorder on the rolling bedside table and turned it on. Placing the envelope with the pictures on the table next to it, he settled back into the chair.

"Joe, I know this is going to be difficult so if you need to take a break, or you decide you'd like to stop for the day and finish tomorrow, just let me know. Okay?"

"I'd rather just get it all done in one shot," Joe replied.

"That's fine, Joe, but you may find you want to take a little break," Fenton said, wishing Joe would realize he didn't have to be invincible. "If you do just say so."

"Okay."

'_Stay calm,'_ Frank told himself, feeling the tension in the room increase dramatically. He noticed Joe kept looking at the envelope, as if drawn to it. _'No matter how bad it gets, do not get upset, do not get angry, do not lose it.'_

"Let's start with what happened at the airport," Carlos suggested.

"After I called Vanessa to confirm my arrival time with her, I went to the restroom," Joe began easily. "When I went in I was the only one in there. I went all the way to the stall on the end. Right after I locked the door, I heard someone enter the one next to me and an envelope came flying over the partition. The guy said, _"Here's the down payment along with your instructions. You'll get the rest of the money when the job is complete."_ And then he left.

"I opened the envelope and saw the money and two sheets of paper. One was a picture of Senator Hurley and the other had all the instructions for his assassination. I knew my flight was boarding so I put everything back in the envelope and stuck it in my shirt. I figured I'd show it to Dad and Frank when I got home and we'd decide what to do together. But when I got to the entrance of the restroom I saw Rashman and Malick standing across the hall."

"Did you know who they were at the time?" Carlos asked.

"No. But it was obvious they were looking for someone. Malick was watching people walking by and Rashman never took his eyes off the door of the restroom. I assumed one of them threw the envelope and afterwards realized the person who got it wasn't their contact and now they wanted it back. No one else had come into the restroom, and there was no way I could leave without being seen."

'_He really was trapped!'_ Frank thought, hearing these details for the very first time. _'He knew he'd be caught yet he still thought to hide the evidence and call me.'_

Joe stopped for a moment as Carlos was taking notes and waited for him to finish writing, then continued.

"They hadn't seen me yet so I went back into the restroom. I hid the envelope under the trashcan in the handicapped stall, then I called Frank. By then I had a pretty good idea I wouldn't be leaving Chicago voluntarily and wanted to give him some idea of what was going on and where to start looking for me.

"When I started to walk out of the restroom, Rashman and Malick were coming in. They weren't really paying attention to me and I guess I hoped for a second that they didn't realize I had been the only one in there. But I ended up walking right into their trap." Joe shook his head in disgust.

"And anyone else would have done the same thing," Fenton assured him. "But they probably wouldn't have thought to leave a trail to follow. You did everything right, Joe."

Joe looked at his father gratefully. "Rashman stepped aside to let me pass. As soon as he was behind me, Malick pulled a gun on me."

"He pulled a gun?" Carlos repeated what Joe said. When Joe nodded in confirmation, Carlos smiled grimly and made a few more notes. "That means we can add a few weapons offenses to the charges."

Again, Joe waited until Carlos was finished before continuing. "Rashman grabbed me around the throat and started choking me. He pulled me back a few steps, so we were out of sight of anyone in the corridor. They asked me what I did with the envelope and I told them I didn't know what they were talking about. Malick frisked me and when he didn't find it they asked me again where it was. I kept telling them I didn't know what they were talking about."

Joe stopped a moment and concentrated, not wanting to leave anything out. "Rashman spun me around so I was facing him, and Malick pushed the gun into my back, forcing me back into the restroom. They asked me again where the envelope was. I kept trying to convince them they had the wrong guy but they didn't believe me. We heard someone coming into the restroom and that's when they decided to take me with them and 'beat it' out of me," Joe said quoting Malick's words. "I was looking for some way to escape and never saw Rashman's fist coming. Knocked me out with one shot. That's the last thing I remember at the airport." He shrugged apologetically at Carlos. When Joe spoke again, his voice was much more subdued. "When I came to I was chained to the fence."

An uneasy silence followed for a moment, before Joe spoke again. "I guess you want to know what happened next," he said quietly, looking at Carlos.

"I'm sorry, Joe. I wish there was another way," Carlos replied, hating the fact that he had to make Joe relive it all so soon.

"That's okay. I understand."

"I'll need as much detail as possible. And…" Carlos hesitated for a moment. "…I need you to look at the pictures and tell me what order they were taken in, exactly what's happening in each one, what was being said at the time." He stopped, and glanced from Fenton to Frank, suddenly feeling like the enemy. "Since there are no witnesses, the more you can remember, the stronger the case we can build against them. Especially since the D.A. still isn't absolutely sure he can get the pictures entered as evidence."

Joe stared at the envelope once again, nodding silently in acknowledgement. His stomach tightened and he could feel his heart start to beat faster. Joe had purposely avoided thinking about what had happened to him, afraid of what his reaction might be. Afraid he wouldn't be able to get through even a vague recollection without completely falling apart.

Keith Rashman's words came back to Joe, haunting him_. "I __will__ break you, Hardy. If it's the last thing I do."_

Joe knew if he couldn't do this, if he couldn't recall every single abuse in as much detail as possible without losing it, then Rashman would have accomplished his goal. Feeling everyone's eyes on him, Joe focused on one spot on the wall. He knew if he met his father's gaze, or Frank's, even once – if he saw the horror in their eyes as they learned the gruesome details of his ordeal – he'd never be able to finish. In a soft voice, haunted voice, Joe began to speak…


	29. Chapter 29

MissMe113: In a word, yes. It's gonna get ugly, but probably not in the way you think. And thanks for the giggle at you getting giddy over the possibility of tears! LOL! :p

Helen: Thanks so much! :-) I was trying to capture what Joe was feeling without going too far in one direction or the other (too much or not enough).

No1butjoe: Hey, what can I say, it was a good place to end the chapter. LOL!

Miss Fenway: Thanks! I can't believe you stayed up Saturday night! :o I didn't even realize they'd played until I saw the score Sunday morning! LOL! And was last night's partial game the most bizarre thing you've ever seen??? :o  It's supposed to rain here (with temps in the 40's and tropical storm force winds!) straight through tomorrow afternoon so I don't know HOW they think they can finish the game tonight! :-/

Josie: Yup, I've always thought it was _much_ harder for a person to recover from psychological injuries than physical ones; and much easier for them to hide the fact that they _weren't_ recovering very well. ;-) I broke Joe?? Don't you still have some _Boosting_ glue left? :p

Calathiel: Thank you so much! I think it would kill Joe for Vanessa and Laura to hear any of that right now.

Polaris: ROTFL!! Sick and twisted – I like that in a person! :p

Pally: Sadly, yes he does. And again whenever the trial occurs. Something to look forward to! LOL!

TraSan: You're exactly right! I think it's a double-edged sword for all of them.

**Vanished**

**Chapter 29**

Fenton Hardy watched as Joe began to detail his twenty-four hours of hell. To those who didn't know him well, like Carlos, Joe simply appeared to be stating facts. Fenton, however, could tell his son was having a difficult time recalling the cruelty he had suffered and was struggling to maintain his composure. The way Joe would continually pick up the remote control for the bed, roll it around in his hand and then put it back down; the meticulous way he rolled and unrolled the hem of the sheet; and most telling of all, the way his eyes would frequently dart to his older brother for reassurance despite his obvious attempts to stay focused on the wall in front of him. It didn't help that Joe had never been confined to bed for such a long period of time before, resulting in an enormous amount of pent up nervous energy with no way to release it.

Turning his gaze on Frank, Fenton began to wonder if he should even be there. Frank had already begun to question his decision not to fatally shoot Keith Rashman at a moment when it would have been justified.

As Joe spoke, his words acted as an accelerant on the fire that raged inside Frank. Joe had barely begun and Frank was already on the verge of exploding. Frank wasn't sure which was worse – the overpowering need for revenge against the man who had hurt his brother, or the all consuming anger he had for himself at not finding Joe sooner, which would have spared him from at least some of Rashman's abuse.

Frank found himself only half listening to what Joe was saying, knowing full well if he took in every sordid detail he would flee the room within minutes, and make his way to the jail cell Rashman now called home with only one objective in mind – murder. Despite what he was feeling inside, Frank forced himself to stay calm, determined not to let Joe see how upset he was.

He heard Joe say something about having difficulty talking. A broken jaw? Malick had hit Joe, punched him, before turning him over to Rashman – the specialist. Frank heard the rustling of paper and looked down. He wanted to look away, avert his eyes, but he couldn't. Instead he stared, transfixed at the picture Joe now held in his hand, listening to his brother's soft, tormented voice.

Joe was describing how the burns on his arm came to be. Closing his eyes, Frank blocked everything out – Joe's voice, the picture, Carlos' probing questions. He wanted to be here for his brother, to support him, but Frank wasn't sure how much he could take without losing it. The more he heard, the more obsessed he became with one thing – killing Keith Rashman.

'_Come on. Get a grip.'_

Calling on everything he had ever learned in his martial arts training, Frank forced himself to calm down. Joe needed the brother he always depended on, the brother who was calm, cool and collected; in control no matter what the crisis. Not the brother who was suddenly consumed with thoughts of murder and revenge.

It took a few moments before Frank felt even remotely like himself again and knew that was the best he could do. He hoped he could fake the rest of it and make Joe believe he wasn't on the verge of an emotional meltdown.

"He held the flame right against my arm. I tried to pull away, but the chains…I couldn't move." Joe stopped and stared at the picture a moment longer, before turning away.

Instinctively, Joe looked towards Frank as he always did when he needed support. Joe had expected to see rage, anger or some other similar emotion and was stunned to see…nothing. Frank's eyes, his face, showed no emotion at all. They were neutral, as if he were looking at a picture of a garden or a beach instead of his brother being burned with an open flame.

Watching the silent exchange between his sons, Fenton realized what Frank was trying to do – and also realized Joe had completely misunderstood his brother's reaction. Seeing the pictures of what Joe had gone through and confronting Rashman in the courtroom the previous day had pushed Frank to his limit. While Fenton understood Frank wanting to be here to support Joe, he also understood that listening to Joe recount every detail and seeing the pictures again could be more than enough to push Frank over the edge.

Taking in the look on Frank's face and in his eyes, Fenton understood the only way Frank could keep his sanity for the next few hours was to completely shut down. Suddenly he was no longer the hovering, overprotective older brother, but rather a calm, dispassionate, neutral observer, seemingly indifferent to the gruesome details Joe was relating.

Joe quickly turned back to Carlos who leaned forward, and took the picture from Joe. "How many times did he bring the flame in contact with your arm?" Carlos asked as gently as he could. "Do you remember?"

"Four times, I think. Maybe five," Joe replied, this time looking to his father, who nodded at him supportively.

"Were you burned anywhere else?"

"No."

"Were you aware that he had taken these pictures?"

Joe thought about the question. The pain had been excruciating, unbearable to the point where he wasn't aware of anything else. He leaned forward looking at the pictures Carlos had laid out on the table, and pointed to the one where he was leaning his head back against the post.

"No, not until he took this one." He recalled that he had been desperately trying to focus on the stars to escape the pain in his arm when he saw the first flash. "He told me I was going to become part of his resume…" Joe paled as he remembered what else Rashman had told him about the pictures and turned to his father, his eyes wide. "He said he liked to send one to the family."

"He didn't have time, Joe," Fenton reassured him quickly. "No one else has seen them."

…

Feeling his stomach start to rebel as it had done the day before, Frank tuned out Joe's voice, unable to listen to anymore. He wasn't sure how long he had "zoned out" but he knew it had to have been awhile as Joe was now answering questions about the knife wound.

Joe was relating what had happened when Rashman figured out he was Fenton Hardy's son. Stealing a glance at his father, Frank saw nothing but anguish as his father's unspoken fear that Joe had suffered even more because of him was now confirmed.

Frank took several slow, deep breaths as he watched Carlos hand Joe another picture. Frank stared at it as if mesmerized, once again unable to look away. He felt the muscles in his neck and back tense up, the anger searching for some kind of outlet. Feeling Joe's eyes on him, Frank forced himself to remain calm, dispassionate. He wanted to say something to his brother, to reassure Joe, but didn't trust himself to speak, knowing the rage would be evident in his voice. Not wanting to upset his brother, Frank remained silent.

"Did he say anything?"

"Yeah, he, uh…" Joe stopped, still watching his brother and starting to get a little unnerved at Frank's response – or lack of response.

"Joe?" Carlos pressed, and then looked at Fenton confused.

"Joe, do you need to take a break?" Fenton asked, concerned.

"No." Joe turned away from his brother, hoping he had imagined it.

Frank stared at the picture, and shook his head trying to silence the voice in his head that told him if he had reached Joe sooner that picture, and many others, wouldn't exist.

Out of the corner of his eye, Joe saw Frank shaking his head.

'_What? What did I do wrong? What was I supposed to do?'_ Joe thought, confused, mistakenly assuming Frank was somehow disappointed in him.

"What happened after that?" Carlos' voice brought Joe back to the present.

"The chain," Joe responded as he remembered telling himself if he just held on a little longer, Frank would be there. He related the details of the beating, answering a few questions from Carlos. Unable to stop himself, Joe turned to look at Frank and once again saw the same blank stare. Not taking his eyes off his brother's face, he continued speaking, finishing with the bucket of water Rashman had doused him with.

"I remember choking on it and how it hurt just to breathe." His voice trailed off as he realized he wasn't imagining it – Frank was avoiding him.

Joe stared at his brother as he explained the second drenching of water and the jar of scorpions, watching to see if Frank would respond with any kind of emotion and was disheartened to see the same neutral, dispassionate gaze. Confused and bewildered, Joe turned to his father in desperate need of support and was grateful when Fenton nodded encouragingly.

While Fenton knew exactly why Frank was so quiet and seemingly unsupportive, he understood that Joe had no idea. Joe hadn't witnessed Frank's reaction when he had stumbled upon the pictures the previous afternoon. And Fenton was certain Frank hadn't told Joe anything about it, knowing how much it would upset him.

As the afternoon wore on, Fenton began to notice the increasing difficulty Joe was having in responding to Carlos' questions. He knew it wasn't just the questions or the pictures that had Joe so unnerved. Frank's reaction – or lack of reaction – to what had happened to his brother had thrown Joe completely off balance.

Joe had been looking to Frank, literally, for the support he needed to get through this afternoon. Joe had been expecting to see the protective "shield" Frank always threw up around him when things got too difficult; to feel that Frank was ready to jump to his defense if he thought Joe was being pushed too hard. Instead, Joe was seeing a suddenly cold and distant older brother who seemed to be taking the abuse Joe had suffered in stride. Unaware of what had taken place the day before, Joe couldn't possibly know the real reason for Frank's seeming lack of concern.

Recognizing that Frank's presence was actually doing Joe more harm than good, Fenton tried repeatedly to get Joe to take a break in order to get Frank out of the room. Joe however was insistent that he wanted to get it over and done with as soon as possible, refusing to stop even for a moment. The hurt and confusion was evident in his eyes every time Joe looked at his brother.

Unfortunately Frank was now so blinded by anger at himself and a thirst for revenge, he couldn't see what his unemotional reaction was doing to Joe. Frank would give a cursory glance to the pictures Carlos would periodically hand to Joe. Sometimes he would add a curt nod in Joe's direction if he noticed Joe looking at him. What Frank failed to notice was the flash of guilt in Joe's eyes as he wondered what he had done that would cause his brother to be so disappointed in him.

By the time Joe had finished, the tension in the room had encompassed all of them. Sensing it was a "family matter" and had nothing to do with Joe's statement, Carlos quickly gathered up his things and said his goodbyes. Relieved that it was over, Fenton hoped to quickly get his sons back on the same page. But before he could speak, the door to the room opened and two nurses came in, carrying sponges, various tubes of ointment and clean bandages.

"I'm sorry but I have to ask you to wait outside for a few minutes," one of them addressed Fenton before turning to Joe. "We need to clean and re-bandage your arm."

Sighing at the lousy timing, Fenton stood and gently squeezed Joe's shoulder. "We'll be right outside."

Sinking back into the pillows, Joe nodded, feeling numb. Turning for one more look at Frank, hoping to see that he really had imagined his brother's apparent indifference, he was met with Frank's retreating back as he quickly exited the room.

Closing his eyes, Joe tried to ignore the painful process, which seemed twice as difficult as usual today and felt as if it lasted twice as long. As the last of the bandages were secured, one of the nurses gently laid a hand on his shoulder.

"I'll be right back with some Percocet."

"Can I have some morphine instead?" Joe requested softly.

"Hurts more than usual today?" she asked, sympathetically.

"Yeah. And could you tell my Dad and brother they can leave. I'd just like to sleep for a while."

"Of course."

Joe heard the door open and close as she left. He heard the muffled voices of his father and Frank and guessed they were somewhat surprised at his request to be left alone. A few moments later, she returned and Joe gratefully swallowed the pill she offered. Closing the blinds and turning off the overhead light, she quietly slipped out of the room.

Joe lay back and waited for the medication to take effect, hoping it would ease not only the pain in his arm, but the pain in his heart as well.

**---**

**A/N:** I promise on my complete collection of Casefiles that there will be a brotherly heart to heart coming up very soon, so don't throw anything at me! :p


	30. Chapter 30

Thank you to No1butjoe, Iola Hardy (I've sent a few 'flames' like that myself! LOL! ), Miss Fenway (WE WON!!!! :D), Polaris, Helen, Alicia, Calathiel, franknjoe (Yup, a complete collection of Casefiles, some much more worn than others from repeated reading! ;-) ), TraSan, pally and josie for the awesome reviews. :-)

**Vanished**

**Chapter 30**

Fenton watched as Frank turned and fled Joe's hospital room as if his life depended on getting out as fast as possible. With a final look at his younger son, Fenton noted sadly that Joe had also seen the urgency of Frank's escape. Joe closed his eyes and sank back into the pillows, but not before Fenton saw the distress in his eyes.

…

Frank quickly walked to the waiting area at the end of the hall and took a seat. Leaning forward he stared, almost mesmerized, at his shaking hands. He thought he had prepared himself well enough but once Joe had started to fill in the details of what he'd been through, Frank found he could barely keep himself from falling apart, let alone provide any kind of support to his brother. He hoped his presence was enough for Joe. As the afternoon wore on and Joe related one abuse after another, Frank found himself consumed with guilt for not getting to Joe fast enough.

'_If only we'd found him sooner. He wouldn't have had to go through all that. I promised him. I promised I'd always be there…and I wasn't.'_

As the images in the photographs flashed through his mind, Frank felt his stomach start to rebel again. More than once, Frank thought he was going to have to leave the room as Carlos produced picture after picture, probing for as much detail as possible. Leaning forward, Frank dropped his head and took several deep breaths, waiting for the nauseous feeling to pass, grateful he was at least able to hide his distress from his brother. He felt someone take a seat in the chair next to him and heard his father's voice.

"Frank, are you all right?"

"Yeah, fine," he replied softly. He knew he was far from fine, but he would never verbalize it; not after learning every gruesome detail of what Joe had been through.

"Listen, as soon as the nurses are through changing the bandage on Joe's arm, I want you to talk to him."

Frank sat up, noting the urgency in his father's voice. "Okay. About what?"

Fenton shook his head, smiling sadly at his son. Frank had no idea that Joe had completely misinterpreted his actions and he was going to be devastated when he found out what Joe really thought.

"I know what you were trying to do in there, Frank, and I agree with it in principle. You were right in trying to hide your true feelings from Joe. But I'm afraid you may have done it a little too well."

Frank looked at his father, confused. He was absolutely certain Joe never saw how angry or upset he was. What could be wrong with that?

"I think Joe got the impression that you didn't think his ordeal was all that bad."

"What?!" Frank cried out in shock.

"Did you tell him you saw the pictures yesterday?"

"No! Dad, he had already gotten himself all worked up about talking to Carlos. I didn't want to give him anything else to get upset about."

"So he thought you were seeing those pictures for the first time today."

"Yes. Are you saying I should have told him about yesterday?" Frank asked, bewildered.

"Not necessarily. But if today really had been the first time you saw those pictures, well, your reaction was pretty… underwhelming."

Frank stared at his father as he thought about his reaction to Joe's statement, to seeing the pictures again. He felt a sickening thud in his heart as the pieces fell into place.

"I understand you had to keep everything inside just to be able to get through this afternoon yourself," Fenton continued. "But I'm pretty sure Joe misinterpreted your reactions. Frank, you were so unemotional, so calm, so… indifferent. I'm afraid Joe thinks you're disappointed in him. In the way he handled everything. And now…"

"…he feels guilty for letting me down." Frank dropped his head into his hands.

Frank didn't think he could possibly feel any worse than he had after hearing Joe discuss his horrible captivity, unable to stop thinking if only he and Fenton had arrived sooner, Joe would have been saved some of the torment. He was quickly finding out that wasn't the case.

"What's happened to me? Before this year being a 'big brother' came so naturally I never had to think twice about it. Now… no matter how hard I try, no matter what I do or say, it's always the wrong thing. It seems I always end up hurting Joe instead of helping him."

Frank felt overwhelmed. He had wanted so badly to help Joe get through this afternoon, to support him as much as possible. Instead he had simply added to the burden Joe was feeling, a burden he knew was becoming unbearable for his brother.

"Don't be so hard on yourself." Fenton squeezed his shoulder gently. "It was just a misunderstanding. Just explain to him that you really _were_ disturbed by the pictures and upset at what he had to go through, but you were trying to remain calm for him. Make sure he understands he handled himself perfectly and you are not disappointed in him or anything he did – or didn't do."

Frank nodded, feeling numb, as if he were on autopilot. He felt his father take his elbow and guide him from the chair, leading him down the hall to Joe's room. They arrived just as a nurse came out the door. Seeing Fenton and Frank she stopped in the doorway, effectively blocking their way.

"I'm afraid he's feeling a little worse than usual today. He asked to be left alone," she relayed Joe's message.

"I just want to sit with him." Frank moved towards the door. "I won't bother him."

The nurse extended her arm across the door, resting it on the doorframe. "He said to tell you both that you could leave. He really is feeling badly today. He specifically asked for morphine. He hasn't taken that in days."

"Morphine?" Fenton repeated, concerned. "But I thought the Percocet was all he needed."

"Normally it is. Apparently, his arm is bothering him a lot more than usual today. Now, if you'd like to go out and get something to eat, or go back to your hotel for a while, I'm sure he'll be up for visitors a little later." She smiled but her tone and body language indicated she had no intention of letting them in the room.

'_It's not his arm that's bothering him,'_ Frank thought as the guilt continued to grow. With a twinge of fear, Frank realized that Joe had asked for morphine not to escape the pain in his arm, but to escape the pain in his soul. The pain that Frank had caused.

oooOOOooo

Soon after the nurse had left his room, Joe noticed the intense pain in his arm had dulled to a low throb, his ribs that had begun to ache earlier in the afternoon had quieted down considerably but most important of all, the guilt he felt at Frank's apparent disappointment in him had decreased immensely to a level that was at least tolerable. Joe no longer hated himself for letting his brother down, even though he still didn't understand why Frank felt that way, and marveled at what one little pill could do to deaden not only the physical pain he was in but the emotional pain as well.

Joe lay there with his eyes closed, contemplating Frank's indifferent reaction to seeing and hearing about his ordeal. He found that he liked the way the morphine had dulled all his senses and decided to let the sleep that had been calling to him finally take over. Joe let himself drift off into a world where everything was the way it used to be, allowing him to escape his present situation and all it's misery, at least for a little while.

--

A/N: One brotherly heart to heart coming up… in the next chapter. ;-) PROMISE!!


	31. Chapter 31

Thank you so much to Calathiel (I loved the 'communication is your friend!' :p ), No1butjoe, Polaris, pally, MissMe113, TraSan and Helen for your comments! :-)

As promised, one brotherly heart-to-heart. ;-)

**Vanished**

**Chapter 31**

Joe could feel the flame against his bare skin. The intense pain seemed as if it would never end.

'_Frank! Where are you?!' Joe thought, now in agony._

_Suddenly the flame moved from his arm, to his chest. He cried out, no longer able to hide his misery. From there the fire moved again, scorching his right arm. Joe now found himself engulfed in flames, unable to move, crying out for his brother._

_"Frank!! Help me!!!"_

Joe awoke with a start. The terror of the dream still gripped him, as he found himself in that place between sleep and wakefulness where he wasn't quite sure what was real and what wasn't. He had instinctively risen halfway to a sitting position and then let out a muffled cry as his tender ribs protested the sudden movement. Easing himself back down on the bed, he told himself it was just a dream, hoping that would decrease the panic that had taken hold of him.

He heard someone moving, getting up from the cot in the corner of the room and realized he must have inadvertently awakened Vanessa.

"Joe? Are you all right?"

"Frank?" Joe asked, slightly disoriented. He was awake enough to know it was the middle of the night. What was Frank doing here? Where was Vanessa? She had spent every night with him since he'd been moved to a private room almost a week earlier.

"I'm right here. It was just a bad dream," Frank said soothingly.

"Where's Vanessa?" Joe asked, now confused.

"She's spending the night at the hotel."

"Oh," Joe replied simply. He looked at Frank, and then quickly looked away.

At some point during the night, Joe decided he had figured out the reason for Frank's strange behavior. Recalling the conversation he'd had with Vanessa a few days earlier, when he confessed to simply giving in to the pain and ultimately giving up, he came to the conclusion that she must have shared that discussion with Frank. Joe assumed his older brother was extremely disappointed in the fact that he didn't hold on, knowing Frank would never give up looking until he had found Joe. Wanting desperately to get back in his brother's good graces, Joe chose to tackle the problem head on.

…

Frank sat watching his younger brother, who apparently had something on his mind and was obviously struggling with whether or not to share it. Convinced it had something to do with his own seeming indifference the previous afternoon, Frank thought it best to tell Joe what really happened but before he could speak, Joe blurted out two simple words that left Frank stunned.

"I'm sorry." Joe looked at his brother, despondent and defeated.

"Wh…what?" Frank was certain he had misunderstood. What could Joe possibly have to apologize for?

"I'm sorry. I gave up. I-I thought you weren't coming. I gave up on you. I know it was stupid to think you could find me so soon. Especially since you had nothing to go on." Joe leaned back against the pillows and closed his eyes. "But after a while I lost track of time. I wasn't sure if I'd been there for hours or days. And it just hurt so much…"

Frank stared at his brother, not quite able to put his emotions into words_. 'He's apologizing to me? For giving up before they beat him to death? And he thinks he did something wrong...'_

"Joe, listen to me," Frank said quietly.

"I know I really let you down this time, Frank. I know you're disappointed in me, but I just couldn't take it anymore."

"Look at me, Joe!" Frank said, more forcefully. "I am not disappointed in you and you have _never_ let me down. If anything, I'm the one who let you down."

Joe stared at him, utterly confused. "But yesterday. When you saw the pictures… listened to my statement. You were so calm and…unemotional. Vanessa told you about our conversation, right? You knew I just gave up in the end." Joe's voice trailed off, tinged with guilt.

"Yes, Van told me about that. But that has nothing to do with what happened yesterday." Frank sighed. "Look, Joe, you didn't give up on me, okay? Like Vanessa said, the only thing you gave up on was being in pain. And there is nothing wrong with that. You survived and that's all that matters to me." Frank shook his head and wondered, not for the first time, if Joe's stubbornness was a blessing or a curse. "You're not invincible, Joe, and no one expects you to be. Except you, apparently."

"But if you weren't mad at me for giving up, why were you so…cold…yesterday?" Joe asked, obviously bewildered.

Frank took a deep breath and tried to explain. "Yesterday was a big misunderstanding. It wasn't the first time I'd seen the pictures."

Joe responded with raised eyebrows but remained silent, waiting for Frank to continue.

"I originally saw them when Dad and I went to the police station to talk to Carlos the day before. I came upon them by accident. I wasn't…prepared…" Frank heard his own voice shaking and closed his eyes. Taking a moment, he tried to calm himself and instead almost fell apart completely when he felt Joe's hand on his arm in a silent gesture of comfort.

'_Great,'_ Frank thought, disgusted with himself. _'After all this, he's trying to make me feel better.'_

"I lost it, Joe. I totally lost it." He opened his eyes and looked at Joe, seeing nothing but concern. "I swear the only thing I wanted to do was kill Rashman for what he did to you."

"I appreciate the thought," Joe half-joked. "But we don't do that, remember? We're the good guys."

"Yeah, right," Frank replied. "Yesterday I was afraid I'd lose control again. I didn't want to make things any harder for you, so I just shut down completely. I can see how you'd misinterpret that, but it was the only way I could get through it. I'm really sorry if it seemed like I didn't care. Whatever you had to do to survive was the right thing to do, so please don't think for one second that you let me down."

"So…you're not disappointed in me? Or what I did?"

Frank shook his head at his brother. He was being so…_JOE_!

"No, I'm not disappointed in you. In fact I couldn't be more proud."

Almost immediately, Joe's entire demeanor changed as he beamed at Frank's words.

"Really?"

Frank was somewhat taken aback that his opinion of Joe still mattered so much to his younger brother. He was also touched that after everything that had happened this year, Joe still wanted his approval.

"Let's see… as soon as you knew you were in trouble, you called for help. You hid the evidence. You saved the life of a U.S. Senator. You prevented the possible assassination of the President. And despite what you seem to think…" Frank paused almost for dramatic effect, thoroughly enjoying the pleased look on Joe's face. "…you never, ever gave up. So, yeah, I'm really proud of you."

A comfortable silence descended on the room, one that Frank was reluctant to break but knew he had to; he and Joe still had one more serious talk ahead of them. Frank was absolutely certain Joe had requested morphine only to relieve the emotional pain he'd been in. But did Joe realize that? And if he did, would he try it again?

Frank knew there would be more rough spots ahead for his brother and he was beginning to worry about how Joe would handle them. He knew the doctor would give Joe a prescription for painkillers once he was released from the hospital, which would make access to them even easier. Wanting no more assumptions or misunderstandings between them, Frank steeled himself for what he knew could be a very volatile conversation.

"Is there anything else you want to ask me?" Frank asked.

"No," Joe replied, still smiling.

"Okay, but if you think of anything else…"

"I'll ask, right away. Scouts honor." Joe grinned, holding up his hand in a three-fingered salute.

"You were never a boy scout." Frank shook his head at Joe's goofy reply. "Now, I have a question for you. And I want a straight answer."

"All right." Joe nodded.

"Yesterday the nurse told us you specifically requested morphine. You haven't taken that in days. Was your arm really bothering you that much or was the morphine supposed to kill the pain that I caused?" he asked, point blank.

Joe's silence was all the answer Frank needed. He took a quick moment to steady his frayed nerves, wanting to be certain Joe would understand he was angry at the situation and not at Joe himself. Leaning forward slightly, Frank stared into his brother's intense blue eyes that were once again clouded over with guilt.

"Joe, you have _got_ to promise me that if I ever do anything to upset you, you'll come to me right away. I know we still have a long way to go on the trust issue, but you know I would never, _ever _do anything to intentionally hurt you," Frank said forcefully.

"I know," Joe responded quietly.

"_Please_, promise me that whenever something is bothering you, you'll tell me about it immediately," Frank pleaded with him.

Joe nodded, looking away. "Sorry."

"Joe, I am not angry with you." Frank's voice was softer this time. He waited until Joe looked at him again. "I'm not. Really. But you _cannot_ use drugs to run away from your problems."

"It was one time, Frank!" Joe cried out, suddenly defensive. "When you acted like you didn't care, it was the last straw, okay? I just needed to forget about everything. Just for one day. Stop treating me like some drug addict!"

"Morphine is the strongest painkiller available. And the most addictive. Do you understand how easily you could get addicted to it?" Frank asked, hoping the terror he felt wasn't showing in his face. "You can't use it to 'forget', Joe. Not even once!"

"Yesterday was hard. A lot harder than I thought it was going to be." Joe replied attempting to mount a defense. "I was tired. And my arm _did_ hurt. A lot."

"That's not why you asked for the morphine and we both know it."

"It's not like I was taking some drug I bought on the streets!"

"It doesn't matter whether the drug was legal or not, Joe!" Frank yelled, now genuinely afraid that Joe thought what he did was okay. "You could still get addicted before you know it!"

Joe sighed and leaned back against the pillows. "Look, between giving my statement and thinking you didn't care… I needed to escape."

"I know how difficult yesterday was for you, especially my part in it. But drugs – legal or otherwise – are never the answer, Joe. You're going through a lot right now and some days it's going to feel like you're being crushed. Things are going to happen and you'll feel like you have no control over your own life anymore. Are you going to remember how easy it was to get away from your problems with morphine? Will you try it again, 'just once'?" Frank pressed no longer concerned about hiding his fear if it would convince Joe of the seriousness of what he was doing.

"You know that Carlos will have a few more questions for you once he gets your statement typed up. Are you going to need a little morphine to get through that too? I've almost lost you too many times this year, Joe. I am not going to sit by and watch you voluntarily give yourself up to some drug, legal or not." Frank knew it had never entered Joe's mind to turn to drugs on a regular basis, but he was afraid that with everything Joe was dealing with now, he could very easily become addicted before he even realized what had happened. "Look, I _know_ you'd never consciously use drugs on a daily basis, but even trying it just once to help you cope… Joe, you could be addicted before you know it."

Joe simply looked at him and scowled.

"It helped, didn't it?" Frank said softly. "Made the pain go away. In fact, it probably felt pretty good, right?"

Joe hesitated.

"Right?" Frank pressed him.

"Yes," Joe admitted grudgingly.

"And that's exactly why you can't even consider doing it again! If things get too hard I'll help you deal with it. I'll hold your hand; I'll listen to you yell; I'll be your punching bag. But you _have_ to promise me you will never, _ever_ turn to drugs again no matter how bad it hurts," Frank begged his voice shaking now.

Once again, Joe remained silent.

"Joe, please! You're scaring me!"

Joe looked at his brother and could plainly see how scared Frank was for him.

"Promise me. Right now. You will never, ever use drugs again – of any kind – to run away from your problems," Frank implored. "_Please_, Joe…"

Even though Joe really did just want to forget his problems for one day and he had no intention of ever doing it again, he admitted Frank had a valid point. He knew it would only take one or two more lapses of inner strength to become a slave to the drug that had been instrumental in getting him through the initial stage of recovery.

Joe sighed. "I promise. No more drugs. If there's something I can't deal with, you'll be the first to know. I just wish I was a strong as you give me credit for."

Frank exhaled with relief, unaware he'd been holding his breath. "Wrong, little brother. Very, very wrong," Frank said shaking his head for emphasis. "After everything you've been through this year, especially with Rashman, I'm more convinced than ever that you're the strongest person I know."

"Oh, geez, now you're getting all mushy on me," Joe cracked, although he seemed secretly pleased at Frank's words.

"Uh-oh. We can't have that, now can we, Tough Guy," Frank responded in kind.

Joe started to reply but was halted by a large yawn and half closed eyelids as his body reminded him it was still the middle of the night.

"Looks like those heart to heart conversations put you to sleep, Bro," Frank remarked, standing up, and heard an incoherent, mumbled reply.

As Joe quickly fell asleep, Frank glanced at him and marveled at his ability to fall asleep at the drop of a hat, anytime, anywhere, under any conditions. As Frank settled back onto the small cot, he wished he had that same 'gift'. As the middle of the night slowly crept towards morning, Frank lay awake staring at the ceiling wishing he could clear one last hurdle – his burning desire to see Keith Rashman dead.


	32. Chapter 32

Well, this is it; we've reached the final chapter. Hope everyone who invested time in reading this story enjoyed it. :-)

Thank you SO, SO MUCH to Calathiel, TraSan, Polaris, Helen, Alicia, josie, pally, MissMe113, Miss Fenway (I cannot believe you schlepped your little self to the parade! LOL! :D Even I didn't go and I only live 20 minutes south of Philly! :p) , No1butjoe, Iola Hardy (I LOVE Independence Day, too!! :D And you're right, Joe would never miss a Laura/Gertrude barbecue! :p) for your wonderful comments on the last chapter! And thanks to everyone who has commented throughout the story.

THANK YOU!!

**Vanished**

**Chapter 32**

Later that morning Frank and Joe sat playing cards, with Joe frequently asking Frank what time it was. Visiting hours would soon be starting and Joe was anxious to see Vanessa, realizing how much he had missed her being there during the night.

As Frank discarded with a scowl, Joe picked up a card from the deck. Unable to contain his enthusiasm, Joe discarded one card and laid the rest down on the table with an audible 'snap'.

"I win! Again!" he crowed.

"What?!" Frank cried out looking closely at the cards his brother had laid down.

"See, right there." Joe pointed to the offending cards, grinning happily. "Say it. Go ahead and say it," he gloated.

Frank threw his brother a dirty look and mumbled something under his breath.

"What was that?" Joe asked, leaning forward and cupping his ear. "I couldn't hear you."

"I said you win!" Frank yelled in exasperation.

"As usual," Joe replied with a satisfied smile.

"And he's so modest about it too," a familiar voice called out from the doorway.

"Hey, Babe!" Joe looked up. "C'mere! I missed you!" He held out his right arm invitingly.

Vanessa rushed to his side, gently sitting on the bed and greeted him with a hug and a lingering kiss.

"So how much did he take _you_ for?" Fenton chuckled as he followed Callie and Laura into the room.

"Ten dollars," Frank replied rolling his eyes, perking up when Callie slipped into his warm embrace.

"And ten cents!" Joe reminded him. "Don't forget the ten cents."

"Ten dollars and ten cents," Frank corrected himself. "God forbid I forget the ten cents."

"Trust me," Fenton laughed as he took a seat. "You got off easy."

"You're looking pretty happy this morning," Laura remarked, giving Joe a warm hug and a kiss, as well as a once over with the practiced eye of a mother.

"I'm ten dollars and ten cents richer than I was yesterday. And Dr. Marston was here earlier. He examined me – _again_ – and said he'd let me know today when I can get out of this place." Joe said the last part eyeing the room disdainfully.

"Ah, that's why my ears were burning." Dr. Marston entered the room in time to hear Joe's reference to him.

"Well?" Joe said expectantly, sitting up a little straighter in the bed, barely able to contain his excitement. "When can I go home?"

Dr. Marston studied Joe carefully before announcing his decision. "I'll release you tomorrow..."

"Yes!" Joe cried out triumphantly, pumping his one good arm in the air. "I'm going home!"

"…to go to the hotel - with restrictions," the doctor corrected him sternly, bringing a quick halt to Joe's celebration. "Number one – complete bed rest for the next seven days. _Then_ I'll decide whether you're ready to fly home."

"But…" Joe began to protest, much to the amusement of Vanessa and his family.

"Number two," the doctor continued. "Once you do get home, other than seeing your family physician and therapy for your arm, home confinement for at least three more weeks after that."

"What?!" Joe cried out incredulous. "You want me to lay around and do nothing for over a _month_?"

Frank unsuccessfully tried to stifle a laugh as Joe glared at him.

"Yes, that's exactly what I'm saying," Dr. Marston began firmly, and then softened. "I know you feel much better than you did a few days ago but you're far from being completely recovered, Joe. You have to give your body enough time to heal or you'll wind up right back in the hospital. You had several traumatic injuries. By all rights, you should be dead."

"You can't get rid of me that easily," Joe replied, breezily.

"Don't worry." Vanessa looked at Joe pointedly. "He's going to be my captive audience for the next month. I don't intend to let him out of my sight for a minute."

Joe groaned and leaned back against the pillows. Seconds later the familiar mischievous twinkle suddenly appeared in his blue eyes and a playful smile made its way to his lips.

"I can see it now… death by bridal magazines," he intoned, looking at his fiancée. "Can you save me from this one, big brother?" he asked Frank.

Frank shook his head firmly. "Sorry, pal. You're on your own. I know better than to come between a woman and her wedding plans."

Vanessa blushed furiously as the room erupted in laughter.

"Just ignore them, Van." Callie smacked Frank on the arm.

Winking at Vanessa, Joe pulled her in close with his good arm. "You can hold me captive anytime, Baby," he whispered huskily. Not caring that they had an audience, Joe kissed her pulling back only when he heard someone clearing their throat.

Looking up he smiled devilishly at the nurse who had entered the room. "Hey, I haven't seen her since last night."

Shaking her head, the nurse walked towards the bed. "You know it's a good thing you happen to be our favorite patient or you wouldn't be able to get away with that." She smiled at him holding up a blood pressure cuff.

Joe sighed, giving Vanessa another quick kiss before releasing her. The room was quiet as the nurse listened to his blood pressure and then recorded the information on Joe's chart. Taking his right wrist and holding it gently, she checked his heart rate. As she finished, she noticed the small scar on his index finger. Peering closer, she started to chuckle.

"My brother has a scar almost exactly like that. Let me guess – you're blood brothers with someone, right? A childhood friend?" she speculated.

Joe looked at his older brother and smiled. "Right," he replied. "As a matter of fact, he's my best friend. Always has been; always will be."

"It's always nice to hear of childhood friendships that still survive. It's so rare these days," she commented. "I hope yours lasts well into adulthood."

"This one will last forever," Joe said confidently, his eyes locked on Frank.

"Can I ask you a question?" Frank said seriously as the nurse turned to leave.

"Sure."

"How did my annoying little brother make it to the top of your favorite patient list?"

"Hey!" Joe protested. "What's that supposed to mean? I'm everybody's favorite!"

"Yeah, but favorite _what_ is the question," Frank grinned.

oooOOOooo

The rest of the day was spent planning and making arrangements for Joe's release the following day. Callie and Frank had managed to sneak in a 'contraband dinner' for Joe to enjoy on his last night in the hospital and before they knew it, visiting hours were coming to an end.

As everyone bid Joe goodnight, he requested that Frank stay behind for a moment. Vanessa discreetly slipped out of the room, knowing Joe wanted a few moments alone with his brother.

"I don't think I ever thanked you," Joe said seriously.

"You don't need to thank me," Frank replied.

"Maybe…but I wanted to say thanks anyway."

"You're welcome." Frank stood up and stretched. "I'll be back tomorrow to spring you from this place," he finished and waved as he headed out the door.

oooOOOooo

One week later, Joe sat fidgeting in the lounge area of O'Hare airport, fighting off the unnerving reminders that this was where his nightmare had begun.

"Where's Dad?" he asked Frank, looking around nervously. "They're going to start boarding soon."

"Don't worry, he'll be here. He just wanted to see George before he left and thank him again for all his help," Frank answered calmly, seeing how agitated Joe was getting, knowing Joe wouldn't relax until he was finally on the plane.

"But we have to get on first. Before everyone else." Joe eyed the wheelchair with utter contempt. "Don't know why I have to use that to get _on_ the plane. I can walk you know."

"You can limp," Vanessa reminded him. "Very painfully."

Joe looked at his fiancée, but knew better than to verbalize the sarcastic reply that had popped into his head.

"Here he comes now." Frank pointed towards Fenton who was threading his way through the crowd.

Fenton went to the counter and spoke to the agents for a moment before rejoining his family who were seated in an out of the way corner.

"Is there a problem with the seating?" Laura asked, noting the concerned look on her husband's face.

To make sure Joe was as comfortable as possible, and wouldn't be jostled by other passengers during the two-hour flight home, Fenton had purchased enough extra seats to ensure all those around Joe would be empty. Frank had flown the private plane back to Bayport earlier in the week and returned to Chicago two days later to make the return trip with Joe.

"No, everything's fine with that," Fenton said, making it obvious there was something else bothering him. Taking a seat across from Joe, he leaned forward and looked at his younger son earnestly.

"While I was talking to George, I got a call from Carlos." He reached out and rested a hand on Joe's right arm, making Joe even more nervous. He glanced at Frank, who was seated next to his brother, in a silent warning that the news wasn't good.

"Barning, the defense attorney, filed a motion requesting separate trials for Rashman and Malick. It was granted this morning."

"What?!" Joe paled considerably at the news, not even hearing the gasps from his mother and Vanessa. "You mean I have to testify _twice_?"

"Why?" Vanessa asked, just as upset by this disturbing turn of events as Joe was. She knew how difficult it was going to be for Joe to get through one trial, let alone two.

"Their plea was not guilty by reason of insanity. No jury is going to believe that both of them were insane, especially if they are tried together. They might buy that Rashman was insane, but they would have expected Malick to stop him. In order to get both of them off, Barning knows he needs to have them tried separately," Fenton explained, before looking back at Joe. "I'm sorry, Joe," he said, angry that the criminal justice system he believed in so deeply seemed to be favoring the men who had almost killed his son while doing nothing for Joe but adding to his torment. "The D.A. did his best to get it denied, but Barning somehow got the judge to see things his way."

"They weren't crazy," Joe said quietly, sitting back in the chair, defeated. "They knew exactly what they were doing." He looked at his father, distressed. "Rashman had everything he needed in the trunk of his car. He was completely prepared. And Malick willingly helped him. He wasn't forced into it."

"And all of that will work against them, whether they are tried together or separately," Fenton tried to reassure his son.

"Besides, it's going to be months before either of them is brought to trial," Frank added. "A lot can happen between now and then. You may not have to testify at all." He knew the chances of that happening were very slim, but all he cared about at the moment was getting Joe calmed down.

Just then one of the gate agents, approached the Hardys. "We're ready to start boarding," she said pleasantly, smiling at Joe.

"Thank you," Fenton replied standing up. "Why don't you get on the plane," he said to Laura, Vanessa and Callie. "We'll bring Joe right behind you."

He watched as the agent went to retrieve the wheelchair before turning back to Joe. "I know you weren't expecting this, Joe, but remember Frank and I will be right there with you. We'll be testifying about everything we heard and saw."

"He's right, Joe," Frank concurred, unaware of the rage that had crept into his voice. "You won't be alone. Rashman will _not_ get away with this. I promise you."

Joe looked at his brother shocked at the unabashed hatred in his eyes and the tone in his voice. He suddenly recalled Frank's comment that he wished he had killed Keith Rashman when he had the chance and shivered, afraid for a moment that Frank might actually act on his threat.

Seeing the agent approach with the wheelchair Joe stood, a little unsteadily, grateful when Frank imperceptibly offered his arm for support. Stealing another glance at his brother, Joe saw the look was gone. Frank was now smiling at him and Joe wondered if he might have imagined it.

"Right. We're in this together," Joe said, settling himself in the wheelchair.

As his father steered the wheelchair towards the doorway, Joe couldn't help but look back over his shoulder and stare at his brother, who was gathering up his carry on bag and laptop. "Dad, is Frank okay?"

"He'll be fine once we all get home," Fenton replied, hoping he was right.

…

Lagging behind as Fenton wheeled Joe down jet way, Frank tried to fight back the anger that still threatened to consume him every minute of every day, vowing the next time he returned to Chicago, he would get even with Keith Rashman one way or another.

**THE END **

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**A/N:** Thank you SO MUCH to everyone who reviewed during the course of this story! And I hope anyone who invested their time in reading, enjoyed it. As a lot of you know, I do write in a 'series' so even though it may seem as if certain things weren't completely resolved in this story doesn't mean you won't see those issues pop up again somewhere down the line. And Rashman and Malick DO have to go to trial eventually… ;-).

THANK YOU!! :-)


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